


I Think It's Time to Give This Game a Ride

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: Softball [1]
Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sports, M/M, Softball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared Padalecki loves his summer softball, and his team doesn't take it too lightly either. They play with a vengeance and are still in a deep, hate-filled rivalry with the league's other hot team. Jared's play lights up when he hooks up with Jensen Ackles, but will the hot streak last all summer long? He has to face the rivals and what created it in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I put this in Chicago, not just because I know and love it, but because I am absolutely fascinated by grown men playing 16" softball all hard and dirty, and 16" is Chicago's own. A good friend plays every summer and those guys go balls-out, sliding, jumping, going crazy. So this story and the intense game play kind of touches on my Friday nights watching that league and hours at the sponsor bar after. 16" gets insane because you're without a glove, the ball's bigger, but it's still tough to manage when it gets dusty and beat up. In case you just didn't know and perhaps were only knowledgeable on baseball, short center is a position that plays directly behind second base, and it makes play a hell of a lot more interesting. In recreational leagues, they play slaughter rules that go something like 12 runs up at the end of the fourth, 10 at the fifth, and nine at the sixth. Also, a typical game is only seven innings.
> 
> As far as the guys and language and whatever? I have a lot of guy friends and things I've put in here are things either I've literally heard them say or are things very likely for them to have said. These guys, here, get foul-mouthed and vulgar, and it shows. Also, the guys I hang with really do drink pitcher upon pitcher upon pitcher. I'm not making these characters alcoholics; my pals really do knock back the beer.

Each and every time Jared steps up to the plate, he means business. He removes his hat, sweeps a hand over messy, wavy hair, and resets the hat. Backwards as always; it serves more as a hair restraint while big, fashionable sunglasses serve to shield the late sun. He swings the bat low, back and forth, as he digs his cleats so perfectly into the dirt. The bat comes back, not quite resting at his shoulder and he slowly nods his head. Keeps his eyes on that big fat, 16-inch softball coming his way. 

It’s only the third game of their summer season, but it’s tight. The Gamecocks are down 5-4, bottom of the last inning, no outs, man on first. Jared’s ready. He’s been here before, bringing in the game-tying and game-winning runs. He’s gonna get this done. Just one solid swing and they’re right there. They’re playing their rivals, Going Deep, and it’s so incredibly tense. Everyone is stretching out each hit; they’re reaching for every ball. It’s been nine years that Jared’s been a Gamecock and every year, they get down and dirty with Going Deep. To the point that when they’re all at the local bar, they sit on opposite ends of the bar and don’t go anywhere near the other. They don’t like to share two words outside of ‘good game’ at the end – though plenty of vulgarities, threats, and complaints are thrown around the field when things get heated. No matter who wins, they have that. Otherwise, nothing is given. It is all taken. And at present, the Gamecocks’ overall record against Going Deep is pretty damned close. But Jared wants to tips that scale.

He smacks the crap outta the now-battered ball, sending it deep into left field. It’s not quite hugging the line, but it’s making the left fielder sprint for his life to get that close to it. Jared’s sprinting himself, rounding first and barely watching the ball course its way through the air. He’s had this blessed feeling before. The solid connection with the ball, the thwack off the bat, the release in his shoulders from all the power rushing out at once. He’s rounding second, trying to stretch this thing out. He’s done it before – in-the-park homer – he’s doing it now. His long legs serve not just for reach on defense but so well for making each stride around the diamond break into long leaps of distance.

He sees Chad, his best friend, first baseman, and third base coach. The guy’s hands are swinging in the air, but suddenly they’re dropping and he’s curling his lips ugly. Jared tosses a glance out to left field and sees the fielder jogging easily and quickly before launching the ball back into play so they can get the out at first, since Brian is still on the other side of third – who in the world thought that ball would’ve been caught? – and not able to get back to first to tag up.

The left fielder is still so far back, it’s taking him a while to get back into position; at least that means Jared really did slap the shit out of the ball. Jared’s pace slows to a crabby walk by the time he reaches Chad. “What the fuck?”

Chad huffs. “I know. That kid just jumped ass deep into the field. Fucking dick.”

Jared yanks off his hat as he moves next to Chad, throwing daggers into left field. He sees the guy use one hand to lift his hat and the other to swipe across his forehead. He’s sweating, but his chest is pretty steady, which tells Jared that he’s feeling the same heat they all are dying in, in the middle of a typical Chicago June. But it didn’t kill him to run out to the far edge of the field and steal his homer. Jared’s at least glad he’s not smiling, but he wants to see the guy's face, his eyes, see if he’s watching Jared back and trying to taunt him. But the guy’s sunglasses and the brim of his hat are blocking way too much.

“Who the hell is that guy?”

“Some other douche they picked up this year? I don’t know. Don’t fucking ask me.”

Jared’s still huffing out his breath from sprinting around the bases, and also just out of hysteria that the fielder caught that ball. His hands plant on his hips and he watches the action continue as Gabe, short center, settles at the plate with two outs. “Shit.” He goes so far as to kick the dirt around them.

Chad rolls his eyes. Jared gets pissy so easily and doesn’t tend to back down from a nice tantrum on the field. “Get the hell outta here. You’re ruining the game.”

He kind of laughs, but still punches hard at Chad’s back as he passes on his way to the dugout.

Gabe gets a quick slap of a single, but no one can do anything after that and the Gamecocks lose. It’s their first loss of the season, and their first in about two seasons. Last summer they charged through regular play and the playoffs in tip-top shape, obliterating all competition with non-stop slaughters (well, except for Going Deep, who kept the games within one and two runs each but still lost). The Gamecocks are back with last year’s lineup, but the first two games were a little closer, and this loss here hurts them all. Because it was close and well-fought, but not enough.

Jared’s still bitter as the teams go through the line. Enough so that his ‘good game’ is muddled so far in his throat that no one can understand it, but he doesn’t care. He’d grounded out in the second, got a messy single in the fourth, couldn’t beat a tag at second base in the sixth, and then flew out in the seventh and final inning. Not to mention he flubbed a few plays throughout the game, knocking down balls at shortstop, but not grabbing them in time to get some runners out. 

He’s heading with Chad to his friend's car and sees some of the Going Deep guys heading to the parking lot as well. He keeps his head down and tries to pretend there is no one else around him. Like he always does with them. But then the left fielder is near him and offers up, “Good hit there.”

Jared barely looks his way and just snorts. “Yeah.”

“Nah, c’mon. If it makes you feel any better, I barely got my fingers on it.”

“Doesn’t,” he grunts back and just goes right to the car. He hates that team, hates everyone on it, hates losing to them. He fucking hates it.

It wasn’t a good game for him, having to continually deal with Going Deep is killing him, and he plans on getting full and drunk to be put out of his misery. 

*

They’re at Kenny’s three streets down from the fields. Twelve dirty, sweaty, vulgar softball players across four tables that’ve been tucked together. Four pitchers of beer, two of water, and half eaten wings and pizza are spread across the space for everyone to share. They’ve already polished off five pitchers and are not even close to being drunk yet; twelve healthy men aged 24 to 37 take the beer like water and keep going. This is Jared’s every Friday night from mid-May through late August. And he couldn’t be happier.

Jared’s mindlessly listening to Chad sound off on his latest conquest, a girl he hit on last week and took out two days later. It was just two hours before he had her squirming in the backseat of his Trailblazer, and he couldn’t be happier. Jared keeps his eyes to anything but Chad’s excited eyes and flashing hands, because he couldn’t possibly care less about Chad’s sex. Or any of the guys’ stories, really, seeing as he tends to prefer ogling the six-foot, five-inch blonde _male_ bartender than the petite brunette with a huge rack who delivered their food. 

The whole team knows his preference and no one cares. Sometimes they even try to set him up with random guys passing through the bars they frequent – which usually only brings embarrassment to the ‘prospects’ since Jared’s friends are never able to pick out the guys who actually like sucking dick – or they do what Chad’s doing right then. Get way too graphic, and possibly create stories that rival Penthouse Forum and are pretty much the furthest thing from the truth.

“So, she’s down there, nose down to the fucking bottom of my dick. Just swallowing the whole thing and it’s bumping at the back of her throat, you know,” Chad is smirking while talking a little too loudly, considering the topic. 

He looks at Gabe, who’s only about five-foot-six, but the guy’s little legs propel him so quickly around the bases and he snaps up everything hit in the vicinity of his short center position. Gabe’s nodding his head, big, dark eyes open wide in excitement and anticipating the rest of this. “Yeah, shit,” he laughs.

“Well, no, Gabe,” Chad starts with an odd glance. “There’s no way your dick ever hits that far back.”

“Screw you. It happens.”

“Maybe with your mom.”

The crowd laughs and even Jared does, too, but he slaps an easy hand at Gabe’s back with a smile. Telling him it’s not a big deal. Gabe is the newest to their group; he’s only been here three years, but he was a colossal spark to their fielding and the kid’s batting average is likely over .800 because he can slap nearly every ball tight against the foul lines or into the spaces between each fielder. He’s got awesome aim, quick hands, and pretty much always takes Chad’s ribbing. The Gamecocks like him.

“So, anyway. Her fucking nose is like digging into me.” Chad’s always animated when he’s talking about sex, blow jobs in particular. So in addition to him constantly sitting up and throwing his hands around, now he’s digging fingers into his lower stomach. “And it’s just digging, and digging, and digging. Fucking killing me. But she’s got a clamp down on me, what’m I supposed to do?”

“You could slap her head to release,” Jared says numbly. He’s not really watching Chad, but it’s hard to not hear him.

“Dude,” Chad whines, because Jared’s totally just given away the end of the story and he’s pissed. Yeah, he told it to him the day after it happened, but still. He’s pissed. “You fuck everything up.”

“No, go on,” Jared smirks. “I insist. Tell what happened when she bit you.”

Chad yells back. “Fuck you.”

“What happened next?” Gabe asks, trying to get back to the good stuff and give Chad a break.

Chad’s voice goes flat as he pulls his pint glass to his lips. “She chewed into my dick and I slapped her on the ear.”

Jared’s laughing, because he always loves getting to Chad. And because Gabe’s face went from hopeful to disappointed in about half a second. No one else at the table is impressed and most of them turn to other conversations and ignore Chad. Which is what always happens when his stories fail to really impress anyone.

“She might be deaf.”

“Really?” Jared asks with a smile, and then he takes a large gulp of beer. “This because you quite possibly ruptured her eardrum?”

Chad scowls at Jared, like he always does when they bicker. But they’re also best friends, so they never take it to heart. Also, this happens like every Friday night. “Dude, fuck off.”

Gabe cuts in. “Why do you think she’s deaf?”

Jared laughs. Gabe’s not dumb; just awfully curious and always asks more to get Chad to talk more. He’s always amused by the stories, too. “Because she won’t return his texts.”

“Maybe you should actually call her,” Gabe offers.

“Maybe you should suck my dick, Cheesehead.”

“Dude, I’ve lived on this side of the border the last twenty years. Suck your _mom’s_ dick.”

“I don’t give a shit if it was _South_ Beloit, it’s still right there, Cowfucker.”

Jared tunes out when they get even more heated on the Illinois-Wisconsin battle, which happens a bit too much for a guy who only lived on the north side of the rival border for the first two years of his life. He’s tuning out because it’s an old fight, they’re getting heated under the haze of alcohol, and because he realizes there’s a guy at the bar who’s eyeing him and not letting go. Jared looks – okay, _stares_ – at the guy, who’s drinking from his own pint glass and casually glancing at Jared a little too casually. 

It always puts Jared on the edge when he finds someone checking him out in Kenny’s because he’s always stuck with about 10 guys who all talk about vaginas with the regularity of their digestive systems. He’s not usually thinking about cocks or guys who might want to get a hold of his. So when this guy – this hot guy – checks him out, he’s not only caught off guard, but he’s swimming in a giant blush that marks his cheeks. So much so that Chad stops ragging on Gabe about living on a farm and screwing sheep to take notice.

“Jay, c’mon man. Go jerk that guy off so he stops staring over here.”

Jared’s eyebrows drop and he shoots a glare at his friend. “Dude, just no.”

“You don’t want to? He looks like he’d beg for it.”

He looks back at the guy, dark blonde hair purposefully short and styled into a pressed point at the tip of his hairline. Eyes sharp on him. Pouty lips that Jared would like to see wrapped around … 

Chad punches his shoulder. “Just go! Before his gaybeams turn us all.”

“Fuck you,” Jared hisses. But he rises and takes an empty pitcher and his half-filled glass with him to the bar. Closer to the guy, but not quite there; the guy’s to his left, just around the bend of the bar. Jared clears his throat, waiting on the bartender, and gives a careful glance at his new admirer.

They’re each drinking from their pint glasses, and Jared watches as the bartender places a newly filled pitcher of Lite in front of the guy. Who glances quickly at the bartender, mumbles something, and then looks back to Jared with a sideways glance and tiny smirk. He likes that smirk right there, and the guy’s eyes are nice and clear even though the darkness in the bar dilute the color. 

When the bartender gets to Jared, the guy’s gone and Jared’s watching him retreat to another corner of the bar that’s blocked by one of numerous posts around the space. He knows he’s caught – hook, line, and sinker –because he’s watching for this guy and not even caring that the tall, hot, blonde bartender is now taking care of him.

“Heard you guys lost a hard one?” he asks Jared as he fills up the pitcher.

“Yeah, it was rough.” Jared’s still trying to find that guy, just to see if he’s still looking, which would tell him he wasn’t imagining anything there.

“Who’d you play?”

Jared glances quickly at the bartender, knowing everyone from both his team and the rival talk a lot of game in the place, so the guy would know enough to ask about the game. But Jared doesn’t want to answer. “Hey, that guy that was here?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

And here, Jared feels a little embarrassed because while his entire team knows he goes that way, he doesn’t want to be obvious about it and ask the bartender about some dude. He flushes a little, and finally says, “Nah, I thought I knew him from somewhere.”

“I dunno. I‘ve only seen him a few times lately.” 

Jared sighs while taking the pitcher and his newly filled glass back to the table. Chad and Gabe are still arguing over the mighty Wisconsin-Illinois issue. 

“Dude, you drink _Miller Lite_. From _Milwaukee_. Do you see how hard your argument fails?”

Chad sits forward. “You did not just use the fail tag on me. Tell me you didn’t before I slap your face.”

“I ain’t sucking your cock, so don’t come near me.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Chad licks his open hand and shows it to Gabe. “I will palm the fuck outta your cheek.”

Jared stares and hides his smile. “How long was I gone? You letting Gabe suck your dick now, too?”

“Fuck you!” they both yell in return. 

Chad goes on. “This bitch is just asking for a head slap.”

Jared replies at the edge of his pint glass. “Be careful, you might bust an ear drum.”

Chad scowls. “Dude, whatever.” Then he flips the subject. “You suck _that_ guy’s dick or what?”

“Nah, man. He’s gone. Lost cause.”

“You were there for four minutes and you screwed it up? You are the worst gay in the world, I swear.”

“Fuck you.”

“That guy was sucking his lips and eyefucking you from across the room and you can’t seal that deal? That shitpacker is _still_ fucking you.”

“What?” Jared squawks and follows Chad’s view. The guy is back with another empty pitcher and eyeing Jared. But not as hard or as often as before. Jared’s heart pumps wildly and he’s drunk enough to start imagining how he’d push him against the bar and lick the spot just under his ear as he grinds into his ass. Which is looking nice and round in his well-fitting jeans. 

Jared’s hand settles at his stomach and he wishes he were alone and could pull it lower. Instead, he sweeps up high, palm resting across the green screen-print rooster and letters across his chest that read Gamecocks in a loopy cursive font on his game shirt. (Chad insists Jared picked it because he's gay and likes sparkly, pretty letters; Jared insists Chad likes dick and that’s why he chose the name Gamecocks)

He feels overly skuzzy and filthy, still wearing his baseball tee; the green sleeves are still bright as the day they got them two years ago, but the white of his torso is grungy and dirt-beaten from a few too many slides in the dirt as he’s prayed for the ump to call him safe. But he chances a hand through his hair as he rises, his again-half-full glass in his other hand. “Go get ‘em, Sally!” Chad encourages as he slaps Jared in the ass. 

Jared does his best to approach the bar with nothing more than a careless walk. But he stalls when he hears Chad call out ‘shake that ass!’ and Gabe tacks on ‘use the dirty pout!’ and he realizes he really hates his friends. When he opens his eyes again, the guy isn’t watching him, but he’s chuckling a little at Chad and Gabe and then looks into his glass before taking a long sip.

The bartender smirks; he knows how much shit that whole team doles out every week. It’s always fun for the employees to listen to so they take a lot of the vulgarity with it.

“Dicks,” Jared grumbles as he pushes his glass to the cute bartender – the guy’s getting downgraded the more Jared sees the other guy – and waits for a refill. 

“They don’t seem like the type who like dick.”

Jared’s attention whips to his left. The guy’s voice is low, amused, and gravelly. It goes right Jared’s dick.

The guy raises an eyebrow and takes another drink. His glass is nearly empty.

“Yeah. Not so much.” He glances at the bartender briefly. “On the tab?” Then he looks at the guy and mumbles to the bartender, “Him, too?”

If possible, the guy’s eyebrow goes even higher. He pushes his suddenly empty pint closer to the bartender with a nod, then grabs his just-filled pitcher and takes it back to wherever it is he’s residing for the evening. Jared flinches at the disappearance, looks to the bartender, and retrieves his beer. He’s heading back to the table, tail tucked between his legs, before he hears the voice again. “Jaybird!”

Jared turns and stares oddly. Then he remembers that’s the name on the back of his shirt. 

“You buy and ditch? Lousy date.”

Jared turns back quickly with a crappy frown. “Guy, you walked off.”

“I walked back.”

“That’s fair.”

“Fair enough to share a beer?”

Jared moves closer, but he’s holding the same smug, fake-pissy face. “I bought you the beer. What’re you gonna do for it?”

The guy tosses a hand out and mocks Jared’s face. “I was going to offer some witty and charming conversation, but I can see you’re all stocked up.”

Jared smiles easily - he does it so much it’s like his mouth’s default position - and offers a hand. “Jared. What’s up?”

“Jensen.” The hands curl into each other and to an outsider it’s a manly, introductory handshake. But their palms are hot and pressed tight, and they both know what it means.

It means that not even ninety minutes later, they’ve shared another two pitchers of beer and make their way out to the parking lot under the guise of Jensen showing off his classic ’67 Chevy Impala. But they both know what they’re doing in far reaches of that backseat when hands are jerking steady and lips are wiping across bare skin and their heavy breathing has collected as condensation on the inside of the windows. 

“Fucking hot as hell,” Jared grunts as he’s biting a trail along Jensen’s neck and his fingers are reaching deep into Jensen’s jeans to fumble with his balls.

“Pretty little fucker yourself,” Jensen smirks in return as his fingers curl around the base of Jared’s dick and start their easy stroke up and then back down. 

They’d both had quite a few beers before they had that first handshake, and then they easily slopped more down to bring them to this heady mix of sex and booze and heat rivaling the humidity outside the confines of the car. And it’s not stopping until they're well and done with each other.

Jensen’s other hand reaches for the back of Jared’s neck and the fingers tug on his hair for attention. “C’mere,” he grunts as he assaults Jared’s mouth. His tongue is pushing in and sweeping the full space, winding with Jared’s and getting just as sloppy as his hand goes. Because Jared’s hand slips over Jensen's ass then under. A fingertip rounds the rim of Jensen's asshole. “Fuckin’” he groans against Jared’s mouth. “Gettin’ dirty?”

Jared’s finger edges itself in, not even asking for permission. “Dirty would be your lips on my cock.”

Jensen scoots back onto Jared’s finger, which is now up to its middle knuckle in tense, begging muscles, and he tugs his hand with a twist of the wrist to kill Jared and his dick. “Don’t know why I gotta move. This works for me.”

He moans and starts to withdraw his finger. He smiles at the groan of disappointment from his makeout partner. “What? You want that back?” he teases as the fingertip drags across the hole. 

Jensen laps a lazy tongue into Jared’s mouth. He pulls back and suggests with heat deep in his belly and want in his voice, “I go down, you keep working that finger.”

“At the same time?” Jared asks with a trembling smile, trying to imagine the stretch of his arm and fingers while he’s engulfed by Jensen’s damp mouth. He’s fucking loving the idea even more than Jensen seems to.

“Whadya think?” he asks, pushing back onto the finger but also tugging at Jared’s athletic shorts. They go to his knees at the same time that Jensen folds himself down and gets his mouth wrapped around Jared’s hard dick.

“Oh, fuck.” Jared practically creams from the moist heat enveloping him and it takes him a few seconds of Jensen’s bobbing to remember that he had a responsibility here. So he pops his finger back into Jensen’s ass and curls the tip inside on each drag back out. 

They’re going fast now, despite the haze of drunkenness and the fog of body heat in the air. Jensen’s sucking Jared’s dick with one hand on his hip to keep him moving in time with his own mouth and the other is practically juggling his balls. And Jared’s totally losing it, but not so much that he can’t work a second finger into Jensen and swing them both around the muscles as they stretch for him. 

“Fuck, ah, ah, fuck,” Jared starts panting as he reaches the very edge. His fingers tuck tight inside Jensen, bordering on pain but still so much pleasure. Jensen’s getting excited at the whole thing – Jared’s hand at his ass, the dick tightening within his mouth, the slurping he can’t hide as he slides far down the shaft and suckles his way back up. And then Jared’s done, punching his free palm to the hood of the car and cursing and somehow working Jensen’s name out of his mouth, even while it curls ugly with the break of his orgasm. And even more with the great feeling of Jensen swallowing all his cum.

Jensen quickly moves up Jared’s body, his dick just as hard as Jared had been only moments before and Jared’s fingers lifeless in his ass. He slides along Jared’s leg, a trail of precome traced on the thigh. “Hey, asshole,” he murmurs playfully. “You forgot something.”

Jared’s smile is so entirely lazy that it’s amazing he can even speak through the lips. “Calm the fuck down, Dude.” He pushes Jensen onto his back and slowly moves those fingers again, edging them all the way out before he punches them right back and spikes Jensen further against the seat. 

“Oh, shit,” Jensen curses angrily. He pushes his hands against the inside of the door for leverage as he rocks back onto Jared’s fingers, and eventually rocks himself into Jared’s other hand as it wraps around his dick. 

“Let’s go pretty boy. Get this shit done,” Jared smirks. He loves this feeling – wrapped tight in the high of his drunken orgasm and watching Jensen writhe beneath him. He’s got Jensen’s torso locked tight, working his asshole and his cock. And the guy ain’t doing anything other than fucking Jared’s hands and begging for it to never end. Jared’s getting bold and pushing harder and faster and swallowing up every little whimper Jensen feeds him, until finally the guy breaks and he’s streaking his own chest with come, the muscles of his ass pulsing around Jared’s fingers. And Jensen sighs so deeply, that Jared’s convinced he was holding his breath for the last five minutes of their fucking. 

Jared’s not exactly the cleanup kinda guy, but he’s pretty damned drunk and still soaring on the excitement of this thing between them and having himself a hot hookup with a hot guy. So he leans forward and licks at Jensen’s cum, swiping the flat of his tongue across the guy’s chest. And Jensen’s groaning in appreciation as his fingers curl into Jared’s hair. Jared looks up to Jensen and they both see heavy, grateful eyes. Jensen’s hand is tighter at Jared’s head and he tugs him forward for a wide, sucking kiss. One Jared can’t believe Jensen can manage at the moment because it’s been at least five minutes since _Jared_ came down off his orgasm and he’s still feeling a little too sloppy to work his tongue that well.

“Fucking beautiful,” Jensen grunts out. 

Jared’s feeling a little awkward because they screwed around and they’re drunk, and yeah, Jared knows he’s a good looking guy, but this still feels a little weird to say on the first night they meet and fuck. 

“Those fingers,” Jensen chuckles when he sees Jared’s eyes have dazed off with worry. “Your fingers are awesome. I need to take them home.”

Jared lies out across Jensen, pushing his hips against Jensen. “I’m so there.”

They start messily kissing again and Jared’s grinding against Jensen. But then there’s pounding at the hood and he hears the distinct shout of Chad’s voice. “Let’s go, Sally. Last call! Get your fingers outta dark places.”

“Fuck,” Jared mutters as he stills. 

Jensen’s sitting up but he’s also laughing, so Jared guesses it’s okay. “At least he wasn’t here ten minutes ago.”

Jared tugs his shirt back into place and reaches for his shorts. “Ten minutes ago, I wouldn’t have stopped.” He’s about to pull his bottoms back into place but he starts to get that itch where he wants to say something that is usually taken better when he’s still naked with a guy as a reminder of how awesome it just was between them – Jared has a system for hookups that go this well and its works a good 80% of the time. You don’t ask for more once the clothes are back on because everyone’s thinking about leaving already. He leans back into Jensen and kisses him hard, his tongue effectively fucking its way through the mouth and making the guy moan all over again. He pulls off with a loud smack. “Can I have your number?” he asks before going back in for another quick, loud, messy kiss.

Jensen eyes him, and Jared can’t read if it’s good or not. “Yeah?”

He wants to remind him, so he tucks a hand under Jensen’s balls and his finger inches close to his hole. “Shit this good can’t be kept away.”

His voice goes dark and his hand wraps tight around Jared’s neck. “You can follow me home right now.”

“Chad’s my ride.”

“We can just go to your place.”

And then Chad’s pounding again on the roof. Jared is still thankful there is too much steam on the windows for Chad – or anyone, really – to see them each half naked. “C’mon, assmonkeys!” 

He frowns but is kind of unapologetic. “He’s also my roommate.”

“Lucky you.” Jensen quickly pops his clothes into place, which Jared takes as a cue to do as well. Jensen slides over the front bench seat and grabs his cell from where it had slipped out of his pocket during the first round of their makeout up there. “What’s your name again?”

Jared eyes Jensen and finally sees a smirk break. “Fucking dick.”

“I fully intend to.” Jensen hands his cell to Jared. It already has his name typed in and waits for Jared’s fingers to feed it his number.

When Jensen checks out Jared’s phone, he sees the main screen’s banner reads “Jaybird,” and he smirks, remembering it from the back of his shirt. “Where’s Jaybird come from?”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Chad. I guess because they both start with a J?”

“That’s pretty gay.”

He huffs a little, as if it actually hurt (it didn’t, but Jared pouts enough to play it off well). “You just sucked me off and fucked my hand. That’s pretty gay.”

“ _Your_ hand just fucked my ass. _That’s_ gay.”

Jared smiles and it doesn’t go away when he exits the car, or when he’s walking alongside Chad, who’s trying to break his mood. “Don’t you tell me about any sucking or poking going on in there. I am clean and free of the homovirus and would like to stay that way.”

He wipes his hand through Chad’s hair, fussing up the already messy do. “Guess which hand I had in his ass?” Jared taunts, and then cackles as Chad chases him to the Trailblazer in the corner of the parking lot.

*

The Gamecocks don’t practice during the week like some teams do. Years ago, schedules were a little tight, and they were mostly interested in just fucking around on the field, enjoying the summer outdoors, and then enjoying it from within the bar. Now, even as they’ve all become exceedingly more serious about it each season, it’s because they’re good enough without it, so why spend more time than they have to? They’re dedicated to a point.

But they have modified team meetings on Tuesdays and some Thursdays, when Jared’s at work – managing the nearby Dick’s Sporting Goods – with a light crew and no one will complain that half the team congregates in the store. And in all realities, it’s just a bunch of guys coming around to talk shit about each other’s playing or just passing the time screwing around with any bit of sporting equipment they want. 

Chad’s the first one there, laid out on a weight bench and lifting the barbell with minimal weights on it. 

“Graduated to ten pounders, I see,” Sandy calls out as she gets close.

Chad turns his head to see how the Dick’s uniform polo is pulled tight against her plump breasts. They seem so out of proportion on her tiny, short frame, but Chad ogles them anyway. “Graduated to double D, I see?”

“Screw you.” She slaps her palm at his forehead, knowing he’s blatantly staring at her chest. 

“Dude!” he harps and sits up instantly, still juggling the barbell.

“Here, you want help?” she offers in a childish voice, belittling him even further. 

“Fuck you.”

“Nah-uh.”

“Whatever. I got it.” Chad puts the bar back into its place and sits up. “Where’s our favorite little Gaybird?”

“I dunno. But, did he get a boyfriend or something? He’s been cloud-nining it for _days_.”

Chad picks under his nails like it’s the most interesting thing he’s got going on. “Some guy blew him in the backseat of his car Friday.”

Jared makes his presence known by smacking the back of Chad’s head and planting himself onto a bench across from him. “You a little jealous it wasn’t your dick?”

“Dude, no. I prefer my mouths to come with vaginas.”

“Like yours?” Sandy asks. She high fives Jared with a proud smile.

Jared laughs. “At least mine didn’t bite.”

Sandy pokes at the bruises on his neck that can’t be hidden by the collar of his polo. “Liar.”

“Dude, he’s hot.”

She playfully slaps the side of his head. “ _Dude_ , don’t care.”

“C’mon,” Chad suddenly whines. “Those are new, aren’t they?”

Sandy eyes Chad. “What do you care?”

“Because that faggot borrowed my truck last night.”

Jared smirks and shrugs. “Dude’s hot.”

The front door sounds off to notify them of customers. But they all hear the distinct voices of Brian, Gabe, and Jared’s brother Jeff, so Sandy scuttles off to avoid all the guys hitting on her and trying their best to manhandle her.

“Hey!” Jared calls after her. “Make sure the Tiger’s Milk is stocked at the counter.” She yells something in return that he thinks is in consent.

Jeff lands next to Jared, easily sharing the space of the weight bench. “Jay, how in the hell do they milk those tigers?”

Jared rolls his eyes because his brother asks him that far too many times, like it’s a new joke. “I don’t know, Jeff. How in the hell does Josie milk you?” and he reaches over to twist at his brother’s nipple.

He winces out a “Fuck” while Gabe replies, “Very carefully.”

“And with tweezers,” Chad laughs. 

Jeff sits up. “Y’alls just jealous you’re not getting any regular ass.”

“Jay does now,” Chad nods back.

Jeff elbows his little brother. “Got yourself a boyfriend?”

Jared furrows his eyebrows. “Nah. Just screwing around.” He’s grateful when he spots a customer milling around the golf clubs, so he jumps up to handle that and not get any deeper into the conversation.

Yeah, he met up with Jensen last night and it was almost better than Friday night – on one hand, they were sober through this new time and could fully feel every single thing going on; on the other hand, the liquor had pretty much eased up everything Friday, and last night it took them a little longer to get to the good stuff because they both seemed a little awkward without liquid courage. He’d gone by Jensen’s apartment and they played some Wii to waste the weird early time of seeing each other again. They were pretty equal on the sports challenges so the trash talking and competition of the whole thing got pretty heated. Which led into an extremely heated makeout session on Jensen’s couch. They barely made it to the bedroom where Jared got another lazy blow job and then rewarded Jensen by screwing him long and hard. They both came a few times that night. 

But unlike all the other Gamecocks, Jared doesn’t share those stories. Not just because they’re not likely to enjoy hearing about his big gay sex, but also because he just doesn’t like to. He’d call himself a gentleman if it didn’t make him throw up a little, but he’s considerate enough to not fully share everything in his sex life. Partly to save his partners from any embarrassment, but also to save himself from lots of ragging from the team. It works well for all parties involved. 

When he gets back to the guys, there’re about seven of them hanging out on the weight equipment while Chad jogs on a nearby treadmill and Gabe gradually increases then decreases both speed and incline just to screw with him. They’re all going through the last game and everyone’s getting a little pissy over the loss. Between breathing, Chad gets out, “Who was the guy in left? I wanna kick him in the teeth.”

Jared rolls his eyes at Chad. Sure, he’s pissed, too, because that guy stole his game-winning homer, but it’s been a few days. Plus Jared got laid last night, so he’s not as bitter as he was on Friday. “Guy, save it for the playoffs. We’ll crush them then.”

Chad’s stride isn’t too fast so he’s fairly easily talking, but he isn’t looking anywhere but where Gabe’s fingers fumble over the controls to bring the incline even higher. “I am going to fuck that guy’s shit up. Drop some eye drops in his water bottle.”

“You know that doesn’t really work?” Jeff asks.

“Jeff Padalecki, M.D.,” Brian sounds off in a mock-serious voice. “Saving assholes from diarrhea.”

Chad comes to a stop on the treadmill and loses his footing as the belt continues flipping. He quickly hits the stop bottom and steadies himself. “That don’t work?”

Jeff shrugs. “Not really.”

“Prove it.”

“You volunteering for the trial run?” 

Jared stands and stretches. “Hey, guys, this is awesome and all? But fifteen minutes ‘til close.”

Jeff looks up. “Hey, did you get that DeMarini bat in yet?”

“Dude, you’ve been here an hour and _now_ you wanna shop?”

“Better late than never.”

Jared sighs. “I’ll bring it Friday.”

Jeff stands and pushes a hand at his brother’s shoulder. “What if I wanna hit the cages with it?”

“Use the Miken I got you. C’mon,” he whines.

“Why’s you gotta be such a crabass?” he asks, clearly annoyed. “How’m I gonna hit any better if I can’t have that bat?”

“Can’t really hit any worse, either.”

“Screw you,” he shoots back to Chad without looking. 

The rest of the guys clear out and Chad calls out to Jared that they’re all running to the Steak ‘n Shake across the street to wait for him. 

Jared rights the treadmill Chad was using but never bothered to actually turn off, and he moves a few other items back into place that the guys had messed with. He can tell Jeff is still there so he glances at him and then goes back to cleaning things up. “What’s up?”

“You really got a new guy?”

He shrugs, but can’t help the tiny smirk. 

“Jay? C’mon, you can talk to me.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s nothing, though. Just screwing around.”

“Kinda late for a rebound.” Jared shoots him a confused glance. “It’s been like four years since Tom screwed you over and not much since.” 

“Nah, it’s not that.”

Jeff follows Jared as he moves through the aisles, repositioning stock that Sandy had ignored. “You sure? Sure that’s why you’re not doing anything?”

Jared keeps going, pushing boxed basketballs into place and pulling the front row into an even line. “Look at who I hang out with. You think it’s easy to find guys?”

“Maybe you need to find a new league?”

“Man, I can’t not play with you guys.”

Jeff’s voice is getting more careful, like he’s not sure how long he can carry this conversation with Jared. They’ve never really gone this far on the topic, but it seems that with Jared busying himself, he’s unable to really realize how much they’re talking. “Maybe we find a new league.”

Jared pauses, but then he moves on. And it’s so right. Jared’s got his own issues and he doesn’t like discussing it with people, but right there, it feels okay. Because it’s his big brother, no one else is around, and he’s not even looking at the guy. He’s looking at which bats go where, placing the 34-inch ones into the right slots and putting the 30-inchers back in their basket. “You guys don’t want to leave that field. I know that.”

“Yeah, but if it’s hard on – ”

Jared finally turns at that and levels his brother with a hard stare. “It’s not, I’m cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he huffs back.

“I saw how quickly you tore past first base.”

Jared flashes back to that game and every time he hit a ball, he wasn’t even thinking about first. He was picturing how he could run right past the baseman without a glance and make it to second. Because he didn’t want to even catch a glimpse of Tom playing there. Guilt pinches his stomach for his brother figuring it out. But then anger rips right past it when he thinks about how hard the whole rivalry blew up after things blew up between him and Tom. No matter, he flippantly replies, “Yeah, I wanted to get the game going. Maybe win?”

Jeff nods and lets Jared off the hook. Lets him continue cleaning up his work and settle a little. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Someone from the bar. It’s not a big deal. We hooked up, that’s all.”

“Nothing more?”

“Nah, it was just good to burn a little steam after the game, ya know? Like you didn’t go home to Josie?” Jared smirks, glad they’re back to joking and easing out of any serious conversations.

*

Friday, the Gamecocks are playing like they have been for the last two seasons. Gabe’s sucked up a few tough grounders and started two nice double plays. Chad’s grabbing everything tossed his way at first. And hardly any ball is making it out of the infield, giving the outfielders a chance to just watch the tight play and not run themselves too ragged – like they did last week. 

The bats are lively, too, letting them jump out to a possible slaughter rule by the fourth inning, up 14-3. In the bottom of the inning, with the home team up, they’re trying to shut the Masterbatters down. And that’s when it goes to hell. Jared, at shortstop, usually uses his long limbs to his advantage, stretching so unnaturally to reach any ball hit in the vicinity of his space. But this time, his left cleat sticks in the dirt as he turns that way to chase down a grounder. His foot won’t turn, so he trips over his own feet and just rolls into the dirt. He does stop the ball from leaving the infield, but he’s on the ground long enough that the batter gets on base. 

When Jared stands up, he pounds the ball down into the ground with enough force that it pops back up into his hands. He’s cursing and wanting to just bean that runner in the face with the ball because the guy is fucking grinning at Jared. He knows – hell, they all do – that Jared hardly commits errors, so if he got one over on him, he should fucking take it and not gloat. 

And then Jared’s anger spikes higher when he sees the guys from Going Deep congregating in the bleachers behind the home team’s dugout, watching. And he distinctly sees Tom laughing with Mike, their pitcher, and a few other guys milling around and watching the game and Jared’s error. Like they enjoyed seeing him screw up. He smacks the ball to the ground again.

“Dude, c’mon. Head on!” Chad yells across the field at Jared. He claps his hands quick and sharp to make his point.

Jared’s pissiness has brought him closer to Jeff on the mound, who just gives a bit of a scowl. He always gets mad at Jared for letting his emotions mix too sharply with his competitive nature. Jared’s always the first to start pouting, kick sand, and throw the ball to the dirt like a little kid in a tantrum.

“Seriously, Jay,” Jeff crabs at him, a hand out for the ball.

“Shit,” he mutters.”

“Let’s play, guys!” the ump calls out.

Jared tosses the ball at his brother and points a finger at first, aiming mostly for Chad, but not minding at all the way the runner thinks he’s going after him. His heart spikes when he sees the guy shake his head, reposition his hat, and mouth something that looks distinctly like ‘faggot.’

The next batter pegs a ball to Jared’s left – like they all want to get in on the action of Jared’s errors. But he’s easily shuffling over and scooping it up. Gabe is at second base with his hands open to start the double play, but Jared just charges with everything he’s got. He steps on the bag and hops up when the baserunner’s sliding in and trying to mess up his throw. But he gets it off with such accuracy that Chad doesn’t move but an inch and his hands just flip up to grab the softball at his chest. Jared, in the meantime, doesn’t even attempt to land on his feet and purposely drops right onto that baserunner. Who immediately starts swearing and pushing Jared off. Jared’s not sure how he landed, but his knee was resting on the guy’s chest by the time he tries to get up with a lame hand from Gabe. 

When they’re both on their feet, Jared’s shoulder pops against the other guy’s and he grumbles, “Who’s the faggot?”

Gabe is immediately pushing at Jared’s shoulder, not sure what’s going to come next but getting in the mix all the same. The guy looks a little horrified, like Jared might actually rip his arms off and beat him with them, so he just jogs over to the dugout without another word. Jared’s smirking at the Masterbatters and nodding a little slightly, knowing they’re watching and kind of worried. When he gets back to his position, he again points his finger Chad, who’s pointing right back at him with a huge grin – because he’s about the only one on the team who likes Jared’s antics on the field. 

He can see the next batter’s a bit leery about where to hit the ball, and he eventually grounds out to Gabe, who gets an easy toss to Chad for the final out. Everyone cheers and heads off to the bar with the win.

Once there, no one’s really bringing up the incident, knowing Jared gets animated during his play and sometimes he’s touchy about some things. Someone on another team calling him a faggot is a sensitive thing, obviously, made even more so because they all call each other names all the time. They don’t really have a leg to stand on because faggot is a word they toss around their circle so many times without even looking at Jared when it’s being used. But then, it’s the age old ‘no one makes fun of my brother but me,’ sort of thing. So they’re all a little irritable themselves. Enough that no one mentions it; which is the sick realization of how demented they all are. 

Jared’s still crabby about the whole thing and the only upward feelings of winning he has are swimming with the beer in his belly and the smug smile he carries throughout the night. Because he took care of his shit and taught that guy a lesson. Even faggots play hard. 

He’s at the bar to grab two fresh pitchers when his brother comes behind, pressing two tight hands at his shoulders. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, just more beer,” Jared laughs. It’s a lazy sort of sound because he’s already had quite a few beers, marching himself through his own pitchers, it seems.

Jeff massages the muscles and tries to ease his question back in. “You okay, though? That play was a little rough.”

Jared tenses enough that Jeff can feel it under his fingers, but he doesn’t show it in his face or voice. “It’s fine. Tough game.”

His brother’s face is flat and annoyed. They won by slaughter rule in four innings. No one can call it tough.

Jared swings around and finally huffs. “Guy called me a faggot.”

“Chad calls you that every day.”

“Chad’s a douche, I accept that.”

“Jay, look,” he starts a little too easily, like his brother being drunk may ease what he has to say. It’s possible, but it’s also Jared, who likes to travel back to his childhood when it comes to emotions and throws hissy fits. So Jeff’s face is still cautious. “Hate to break it to you, but you kind of are a faggot.”

Jared scowls and turns back to the bar, pushing the empty pitchers at the bartender. “Doesn’t mean I want someone calling me that.”

“Jay,” Jeff tries again.

Jared turns back but his face is tight, pissy and ugly. “You want people calling you a dick all the time just because you are?”

Jeff raises his hands. “Alright, Bro. We’ll leave it there.”

“Yeah, you should,” Jared nods in return. 

It’s another ten minutes before Jared comes back, having stopped in the bathroom and splashed some water on his face before taking the longest piss he can ever remember. There was a lot of beer in his system, and he’s about to replace every drop he just let out. Everyone’s watching him between their conversations but no one’s really talking to him. The guys are happy for the win, but on edge because of Jared’s anger in that game and how it’s still bubbling beneath the surface. 

“That girl ever call you?” Gabe asks Chad, and the table laughs and cracks jokes about Chad picking up on girls with disabilities.

Jared just keeps drinking his beer, numbly watching them all, fully aware that no one is giving him any real attention. He doesn’t really care. He just wants to get wasted and pass out in the passenger seat of Chad’s truck on the way home. Maybe Chad will be nice enough to help into the house? Maybe he’ll leave him in the car. Either way, he’ll be there and fine and the whole thing will be a distant memory.

“Even if she did call,” Chad’s laughing. “If she did, how could we even talk? I mean, how I could tell her how she shouldn’t chew on my dick?”

“You have to learn sign language, that’s the only answer,” Brian pipes up. 

A few other guys start making obscene gestures that could be sign for ‘don’t clamp down’ and Chad finally turns to Jared. It’s the first time he purposely acknowledges him. “You okay?”

Jared grumbles. “Why’s everyone asking me?”

“Because you threw one of your legendary tantrums out there and all but humped that dude in the dirt.”

“He called me – ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chad sighs. “We know. Gotta get this back in,” and his hand clamps down on Jared’s head, moving it around. “Your head ain’t gonna win us games. It loses them.”

Jared eyes his roommate, a little weirded out by how much that made sense. But he knows he’s right. When he’s not so inside his head with all the anger and pissiness over being competitive and on edge, his play is outstanding and unfolds without much thought. When he’s too far into his own mind, the mistakes just breed upon themselves.

“Hey, don’t look too fast, but your boyfriend’s here.”

His head swings a little lazy – partly because of the whole ‘don’t look too fast’ warning, and also because he’s already drunk. So when he sees Jensen leaning on the bar to grab a new pitcher of beer memories of Jensen’s mouth on his dick and Jared subsequently sticking his dick into Jensen’s ass flash before him. They reel in his mind as he feels the tug on his dick. He tucks his hand around his pants, trying to will himself down and then he’s on his way to the bar. 

He settles next to Jensen, crossing his arms and resting elbows at the bar. “I hear you can get good blow jobs here.” Jensen’s eyebrow rises and Jared goes on. “Ever had the shot?”

Jensen’s mouth quirks just so. That burns a little fire in Jared’s belly. “You offering?”

Jared shifts to the side so he’s facing Jensen and hitches his elbow on the bar. He knows he looks cool and relaxed leaning on a tight angle from the bar to the floor. And he’s got all the nerve of about seven beers behind him. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps I know someone who could accept.”

Jared smirks, still so smug but he knows his eyes are going dark and dirty as he zeroes in on Jensen’s plush lips. He wants to kiss them and stab his tongue inside, grope the guy’s ass and hipcheck him into next year. When the bartender is close – the one that Jared always lusted after, but can’t even bother to look at right now because Jensen is in front of him and those green eyes are piercing him so sharp – Jared says over his shoulder. “Can we get two Chad specials?”

In a minute, two shots are on the bar with whip cream covering the lips of the glasses. Jensen gives off a short, humored laugh. “You douchebag.”

Jared lifts the glass to his mouth, the tip of his tongue flipping through the cream and it’s melting on the warm pink of his tongue, leaving behind a milky residue that Jensen can’t stop staring at. Jensen watches Jared clear all the cream from his shot, how slowly his tongue moves through it all and then finally he kicks the liquor back into his mouth and swallows easily.

In a quick movement, Jensen slaps his own shot back, ignoring the thickness of the cream in his own mouth and throat. He swallows hard and glares at Jared. “We leaving?”

“You driving?”

“Five minutes?”

“Three,” Jared replies and walks back to his table without looking back.

*

At Jensen’s apartment, Jared is fierce with his mouth on Jensen’s dick and even fiercer when he finally enters Jensen from behind. His hands are tight at the guy’s waist and his hips are canting so hard and fast that Jensen’s whimpers sound more painful than anything else, but he’s not asking for it to be easy. So Jared just keeps pounding in quicker than should be possible when someone’s that drunk.

As his orgasm breaks, his arms circle Jensen’s waist and he plasters his chest against his back. His chest is heaving and pushing at Jensen. His forehead is breaking sweat all across the guy’s shoulders. “Fuck, yeah,” he sighs happily.

“Yeah, right,” Jensen laughs as he continues to jerk himself, seeing as Jared had stopped helping him get to his own orgasm.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jared slurs through his haze. His arms pull against Jensen’s hips as he settles back on his haunches and makes Jensen sit in his lap. He’s still inside, going partway soft, but loving the heat circling him right at the core. Jensen’s pressed against Jared’s chest with one of Jared’s huge palms holding him at the chest. “I got ya, baby,” he murmurs at Jensen’s ear. His other palm strokes Jensen easily while he alternates bites and kisses across Jensen’s shoulder and neck. 

Jensen’s now rocking against Jared, which only creates a bitter sensation in the pit of his stomach because he’s already come and he usually needs more time to even consider Round Two. But Jensen fits so perfectly around him, and the guy’s keening and pressing back against him when he’s not pushing up into his hand. So it’s pretty hot for the both of them and Jared can’t help but feel his dick harden right back up. He rises off his haunches and starts pushing back against Jensen, easily striking his prostate while slipping his hand up and down at opposing thrusts. Jensen starts to move a little helplessly, like he doesn’t know if he should follow Jared’s hips or his hand, and eventually, he has absolutely no rhythm and just takes what Jared’s giving him. “Oh, shh, uh, uh,” Jensen mutters, not even able to put real words to the goodness he’s feeling

For the third time since they met one week ago, he’s utterly helpless as Jared controls it all and takes Jensen on a nice stroll through the warmth of building an orgasm before shoving him right off the edge of the cliff. Jensen’s pushing himself up to his knees as he comes across Jared’s hand, trying so hard to make that count more than what’s going on behind him. But Jared rises, too, arching up into Jensen as his orgasm ripples through his ass, the muscles clamping down on Jared. And just as Jensen is careening back to earth, Jared’s breaking through and shoves himself hard into Jensen, but clenching his arms so tight that Jensen can’t help but take Jared’s second orgasm.

They rest back on their knees, Jared’s head thumped into the back of Jensen’s. Jared’s arms are slung tight around Jensen still, and the guy’s hands loosen their grip at Jared’s thighs. “Fuck, man,” Jensen pants with a bit of humor in his voice.

Jared’s head drops between Jensen’s shoulderblades and he’s still breathing heavily and not willing to let Jensen go. “We just did.”


	2. Chapter 2

Two Fridays later, Jared’s play is outstanding, it’s like he’s on autopilot. No one knows how he does it, but he’s in the exact perfect spot for any ball heading his way, and in instants, he’s shifting and firing the softball to Gabe or Chad to get the out. He’s unbelievably focused on the field and at the plate. In addition to a strong single in the second to knock in two runs, two innings later he's stealing third base and winds up beating a throw at home two hits later. He jumps up excitedly, clapping fast and purposely bumping shoulders with Jeff, who’s ready to bat, and Dwayne who scored just ahead of him. 

Jared’s smiling so wide and bright as he just feels instinct take over with the bases loaded. He swings hard and fast at the incoming pitch and smacks that ball way down the right field line. His legs are pounding themselves in firm, quick steps, stretching himself as fast as he can around first with a quick glance behind him. That outfielder is _still_ nowhere near that ball, so Jared turns on his jets. He’s heading towards third when Chad swings his palms out to stop Jared from going any further than his base. Jared easily strolls into third and gives a hearty high five to his friend, who is then jumping up and down excitedly and whooping himself silly at the three RBIs. 

The Gamecocks are now up 10-2 to the Sluggers, and it’s good. So big and good that everyone’s feeding off Jared’s intensity and they score another seven runs before the end of the inning, then hold off their opponents to steal another game via slaughter rule.

Everyone’s getting their stuff together. Shoving cleats into bat bags and tugging flip flops and sneakers on. Bats are being collected while they talk about the bar and Jared’s laughing with Chad’s insistence they get wasted tonight.

“We get wasted every Friday night,” he replies.

“Can’t be too hard a feat, then, right?”

“Shit, yeah,” Jared laughs, pushing Chad at the shoulders. When he looks up, Going Deep is milling around, some of them stretching and he has the unfortunate chance to catch Tom, who’s stretching with a few other players, bending at the waist, reaching to the ground. As always, his stomach turns and his mind goes foul. 

Chad sees it and punches at his back. “Let’s go, man. Beer’s a-waiting!”

The Gamecocks thread their way through Going Deep as they’re all in different states of warm up – playing catch, stretching, swinging bats. Jared swings his cap around, so the brim will cover his eyes. He’s grateful the sun’s angle as it sets is piercing so it doesn’t seem strange that he’d want to cover up. And he’s more grateful that no one will see him looking pissed at having to face them all – having to face Tom. Who happens to pop up just as they pass. 

He sees Mike pat the back of his hand at the guy’s shoulder. “What’s up?” Tom sounds out, a little tired, and like he doesn’t really want to say it but feels obligated.

Jared just nods and keeps moving as Chad punches at his shoulder. But then that left fielder, the fucker who stole his homer three weeks ago is smiling a little, his hat forward as always and big sunglasses blocking the rest of his face. “You played good out there.”

He flinches a little and just keeps walking. Jared hates these fucking guys. Not just because Tom’s on that team and he extends his hatred easily to the collective unit. But because so many of them were dicks after they broke up and all but taunted Jared through the next season. It’s about 90% of why the rivalry will never die. Five percent is because they’re all pretty much giant assholes. And the other five is because Chad is a good friend who will carry Jared’s grudge to his own grave and prohibits anyone from even attempting to be civil with them. Jared kind of loves Chad sometimes.

Jared takes a quick look back at the group and then sighs and goes on to Chad’s car. He’s not willing to let these guys get to him. This was a fucking awesome game and he’s taking it with him to the bar.

At Kenny’s, everyone’s raving about the game, and then it suddenly tips over to Jared and how amazing and spot on he was.

“I’m telling you, that ball went anywhere to my right,” Gabe starts up, so animated that everyone’s laughing. _With_ him, for once. “I just ran to second and waited for that ball. I didn’t even question he’d get to it. You, motherfucker,” he laughs, while pointing at Jared, “were everywhere!”

“Hear, hear!” Chad shouts, raising his pint glass to clink everyone else’s. 

Jeff slaps to the top of Jared’s head and squeezes fingers into the scalp. “Finally getting your head into the game!”

“Dude, I’m fucking there every week. Where were you?” Jared laughs. 

Chad warns, “Be careful Jeff. Jared’s getting some ass so he’s getting smug.”

Jeff moves in tight, tucking Jared under his arm. “Aww, my little brother. Finally getting ass.”

“Fuck you all!” Jared announces before rising to refill two pitchers.

He’s at the bar and waiting for the bartender, who seems to suddenly have a chip in one of his front teeth and strangely marked eyebrows. Like Jared never saw it before, but he can’t help but stare at the two things because nothing amounts to the way Jensen quirks his eyebrows. Or how straight and bright his teeth are when he smiles. Or how juicy his lips are in a fake pout, and soft when they kiss, or moist when he’s working his way down Jared’s body.

Jared’s reminded of the last week and how he’s spent every evening at Jensen’s. And the week before that, it was four out of five weekdays. Each day, their video game playing went on longer than before and their sex was more rushed so Jared wasn’t heading back home on the El too late in the middle of the night. They’re falling into a steady rhythm of hours-long battles of basketball, football, or baseball, whatever worked for them that night. And whoever came out a loser had to get to work blowing the other one, and from there it escalated to whatever worked for them. And Jared fucking loves it. 

He’s finding out how easily it is for him to step into Jensen’s apartment and not feel any tension or strangeness like he did the first two times. He just saunters in, dropping whatever he picked up for dinner or a late snack if had to close the store. They get filthy on wings and pizza and cheese fries. And more than twice Jared sucks all that oil and sauce off of Jensen’s fingers, driving him batshit crazy and eventually fucking him on the couch without any apologies. 

So yeah, things are going really fucking good for his sex life, and he’s feeling high as a kite, not even realizing that it was Jensen who flung him to this level of giddiness. Because here he is at the bar and trying to keep an eye out for the guy, and waiting for him to show up like he said he would. 

But he doesn’t, and bows out with a text. _My thing ran late. I don’t think I’ll make it._

Jared frowns and triggers a response back, short and quick. _:-(_

Jared doesn’t even care that his brother keeps eyeing him. He knows he’s smirking with his tongue stuck a little between his teeth, and he knows his brother, too, is smiling. Jared’s just going to focus on Jensen’s reply. _You’re not getting me with that_

_:`-(_

_Fuck you_

_I was hoping, but you’re bailing_

_Come over_

Jared stares at the screen, and he so wants to, but there’s something tugging his stomach back to reality. He’s been at Jensen’s every single night since Sunday – Saturday being the only night he spent with his own friends. So it’s been six days since he saw his roommate for more than an hour at Dick’s for their weekly gathering. They just killed that game and they’re celebrating. And it’s the first time in weeks that everyone – _everyone_ – is on board to drink themselves silly. Jeff and Dwayne normally bow out early to their families, and a few others leave around midnight. But everyone’s feeling jumpy and happy with the win and Jared’s return to normal. So it’d suck to not be there to keep it going. 

_Are you going to make me beg?_

He sighs and heads outside. Among the complaints that he’s leaving the table, he shushes them down. “I got a phone call to make, shut up!”

“Booty call!” Chad shouts. “Get that candy ass!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jared yells back and ignores how other people look at him.

But he can’t ignore Mike and Tom at the front door, blocking Jared from exiting. He just stands dumbly and watches them, waiting for them to move. In a good ten seconds, he’s realizing that he’s also blocking their entrance. He mumbles out a lame, “Yeah, sorry,” and moves to the left.

Tom’s eyes won’t leave Jared’s face and they’re not quite harsh, but Jared can’t read what he really wants to say. Maybe something that says sorry? _That’d be fucking nice,_ Jared thinks. _Never got a fucking sorry._

“What’s up with you?” Mike asks in an awkward tone and staring at Jared.

Jared’s eyebrows drop and he doesn’t say anything in return, just glares.

The guy looks at Tom and seems confused. “There a problem?”

“No,” Jared complains, “I’m just waiting for you to move.”

“Huh, that’s funny.”

Jared shifts around them without another word and huffs his way out the door. He’s dialing Jensen in seconds and sighing. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll make it out.”

“What’s up, man?” Jensen asks easily, like he really cares that there’s something off in Jared’s tone.

“Nothing, I just,” and then he stops talking because Tom is back outside and he doesn’t need this right here. He runs a hand over his head and it stays there, just so the bend of his elbow can block Tom’s face as he’s lighting a cigarette. They just got there, so Jared knows there’s no reason for him to be outside, except that Jared is. And he doesn’t fucking need it right now, because this was supposed to be the big celebratory night where everyone drank themselves silly, and he could end his night fucking Jensen. But now he’s stuck outside the bar with Tom souring up his mood and dealing with not even kissing Jensen (because he knows sometimes just that mouth can get him roused up well enough). 

“Everything okay? You don’t sound good.”

“Nah, it’s just …” Jared can’t help but see Tom watching him, and it’s all flooding his head. The three years he spent with that guy, how he loved the strong arms and the sharp smile in his lips, how he spent the last few dozen weeks of their relationship waking up beside him with a lazy, sleep-laden smile. How things were so good for 38 months … until it wasn’t at all. And that’s flooding his mind as well. Making him want to go back inside to drink until he can’t feel a damned thing – like he did for weeks while crashing on Chad’s couch before finally taking over the second bedroom and half the rent. 

On the other hand, he wants to just run himself over to Jensen’s and screw that guy and get blown so well that he doesn’t remember what Tom used to do with his tongue. Make him forget anyone existed before Jensen and … well, that right there scares him. Because he hasn’t gotten close to anyone in any state or form since Tom. He’s been screwing himself through one-night stands as much as he can and otherwise just going solo for month-long droughts. He and Jensen aren’t even that close, but this is the first time he’s spent more than two days with any guy, and as it’s looking, it’s been close to a month and a lot of tossed condoms. So it’s something entirely different.

“Jay, what’s up? You okay?” 

Jared’s jogged back to present time and he rolls his eyes at Tom and brings himself back to the phone conversation. “Yeah. Look, Chad drove and I can’t get out there.”

“Dude, you need to get yourself a car already.”

Jared chuckles a little, because Jensen gives him shit over not being able to drive himself back to his apartment at night every time they mess around. Because Jensen’s always trying to coax him to stay longer so they can mess around more. “I live in the _City_. I’ve got the CTA.”

“Yeah, and I live out _here_. Suburbs.”

Jared’s lips turn down, because while Jensen lives right off the Green Line in Oak Park, it’s still not ideal. And in all realities, the fact that Jensen is insisting that Jared get a car so this thing can go on longer than just tonight is making his head swim. 

“Jared?”

He fumbles with a good excuse and finally just rambles on. “Yeah, I know. Shit, man, we won and we’re celebrating, and Chad’ll give me shit for weeks if I don’t stay put. But you know I would, I so would. I’m not blowing you off.”

“Yeah,” Jensen says oddly, like he wants to stay a lot more. But he just ends it with, “Okay. Yeah.”

Jared ends the call shortly after that and doesn’t even want to turn around. Because he knows Tom’s still there, still smoking. “What?” Jared asks while looking out on the parking lot.

“Nothing, I was just smoking.”

“Right,” he laughs without humor. 

Tom exhales. “So, I hear you got yourself a new guy?”

“Maybe.”

“’Bout time, eh?”

When he turns, he sees Tom with a tiny smug face, like he just wanted to see how Jared would respond to being in the same space as him. He shakes his head and marches right back in, nearly downing the rest of his beer and trying to put it all out of his head. But all his memories of Tom push forward and he’s left a little numb from the pain of it all and even more dead as the alcohol courses his body. But it’s enough to mask it so he can laugh with his friends and continue pretending everything’s great.

*

He can’t even believe he’s doing it, but here he is. Standing outside Jensen’s door and weaving a little before he brings up his fist to knock. He doesn’t do it too loudly because he knows it’s the middle of the night and he can’t imagine the trouble of waking up any of the neighbors. But he knocks again, and 30 seconds later again. No one is answering. 

Jared slumps against the door and dials Jensen’s cell. He smirks when he can actually hear it blasting some classic rock stuff through the door. It’s in the living room, and soon enough, Jared can swear he hears heavy footsteps traipse through the room on the otherside.

“Dude.”

“Huh?” Jared asks, because Jensen is so not happy right there.

“You said you weren’t coming out, I went to sleep. This is the exact opposite of cool.”

“Oh,” Jared chuckles but he doesn’t mean to sound condescending. It just happens because he’s drunk enough to not be able to really control much of his tone. “I’m sorry. Seriously. I don’t know. Thought you’d be up?”

Jensen sighs on the line. “What’s up? You okay?”

“Yeah, why? I mean, I’m drunk. But why do you keep asking?”

“Because you sounded awful on the phone earlier. What’s up?”

Jared turns on his shoulder and places a palm and his ear to the door. “I’m outside.”

“Outside where?”

“You’re apartment.”

There’s a pause and he can hear feet moving around again, but it’s not closer to the door. He wonders if Jensen’s looking out his front windows. “Are you stalking me?”

“Nah, I … I’m surprising you?”

“How drunk are you?”

“Pretty.” Jared then taps his fingertips at the door as he waits for Jensen to say more.

It takes some time before he does. “You’re at my front door, aren’t you?”

“You, my fine friend, are correct. You win a prize. You get me.”

“What happens if I leave you out there?”

Jared can tell Jensen’s annoyance and sleep is breaking away. He can hear it in his voice. “In the morning you get day-old Jared. Just as fuckable, but a little less fresh”

Jensen chuckles and moves closer to the door. “You gonna back away so you don’t tumble in?”

Jared shoves his eye against the outside of the peephole. “Dude, I don’t see you.”

“Dumbass,” Jensen chuckles more as he opens the door and lets Jared in.

Without much argument, Jensen microwaves some pizza rolls so Jared can slop up some of the alcohol in his system and not be completely useless. They sit together at the small kitchen table, a glass of water in front of them both and Jared chomping each roll full into his mouth. 

Jensen’s smirking at Jared the whole time, watching as he takes his time to pick out a snack and tosses it back quickly, munching around the heat of the food. “Been a long time for this.”

“Wha?” Jared asks around a full mouth of sauce, sausage, and breading. 

“Drunk, just showing up.”

“Dude,” he mouths around the hot food before taking a quick sip of water. “What else is there for us?”

Jensen just stares and it takes some time for Jared to look up and realize that he’s not talking. His smile is tight as he rises to put his glass in the sink. “I’ll get you some pillows.”

“For wha?”

“The couch?”

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

“You’re not sleeping with me.”

Jared stares and he feels the whiplash of Jensen’s flat tone and face. “Huh? What’s going on?”

Jensen shrugs. “I don’t know. Obviously not what I thought it was.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, more than drunk hookups.”

Jared leans back a little. “Really?”

Jensen moves back to the table and plants his palms into the table to find Jared’s eyes and keep them from going too far away to ignore him. “Jared, you’ve been here nearly every night the last three weeks. That’s not just fucking around.”

He keeps Jensen’s eyes, because the green is pinning him in his place and he can’t focus on anything other than what he’d just said. Because he kind of knows it, but he’s been ignoring it and figuring Jensen was on board with that whole plan. But obviously he’s not. He looks pissed and like he wishes Jared hadn’t stopped by at all. Jared winces, as his stomach drops. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Jensen backs away. “You know where the bathroom is.” And he’s gone from the room.

Jared spends a good deal of time on the floor of the bathroom, huddled around the toilet and praying he could throw up. Because he can’t handle the rocks in his stomach and how they’re giving him the world’s worst heartburn-slash-nausea. He’s pretty sure his chest breaking tight isn’t a good thing either. He rests his arms at the seat and stares down into the water and just wills his stomach to empty. So he can rid himself of all that’s plaguing him right there. 

He feels like an asshole. For showing up in the middle of the night drunk, and all because Tom flipped him over with just a few words. He hates that he can’t just fucking get over it … and he knows he’s never dealt with it and just ignores it and pretends nothing ever happened, like he’s the smoothest shit in the world and enjoys going months without any real connection then spending random nights with people he finds in bars. And he’s a bigger asshole for totally ignoring what was happening before his eyes. He knew he liked Jensen – _really_ liked Jensen. That he smiles every time Jensen texts him. That he’s always looking forward to seeing him after work. That lately he’s been entering the apartment with a kiss and not even caring how it was a little too domestic for the last four years of his life. That he hadn’t really fallen into step like that since Tom. 

And he hates that that’s where it all goes. Because he’d really like to live his life without ever using those three letters. Jared sits up a little straighter and promises himself to never use the name again. No matter what. He just can’t and won’t. He’ll get over this fucking mindmeld the guy’s got on him and just let it all go so he can be a decent human being again and enjoy being with someone. Enjoy being with Jensen. 

Tears start to fall and he’s trying so hard to keep them in, which make them fall even faster. And before he knows it, his chest is heaving and he’s spitting out sobs and pushing his face against his hands just so it’s all the more muffled. It goes on for a good five minutes, and when he’s done, he feels drained and tired, like he could turn over and sleep right there on Jensen’s bathmat. But he hears footsteps just outside and he sees the break in the hallway light where Jensen’s standing. With a deep breath, Jared heaves himself up and opens the door. 

Jensen’s watching him critically, taking in the damp cheeks, the red eyes, and trembling lips. 

“You okay?” he asks gently.

Jared wipes his palm over his face. “No, not at all.”

He can tell Jensen’s fighting with himself. He still looks pissed over their conversation, but he seems to want to help. Finally, Jensen tugs on Jared’s arm and pushes him towards the living room. “Lay down. You probably need to just sleep this off.”

“Yeah,” he says dumbly as he settles into the cushions and watches Jensen head back to his room. In seconds, his eyelids slide down and he’s out. 

Jared wakes to sunlight creasing its way into the living room. He feels like death on overtime. His throat is dry and his lips are cracked. The eyes are burning and his head pounds. He stumbles into the bathroom to splash some water on his face and push hair off his face. After a quick look through the bathroom, he uncovers some ibuprofen and takes a healthy dose with a big glass of water. His reflection is as ugly as he feels on the inside, having ripped himself raw with all the alcohol and late night emotional bruises he fought in this bathroom. With a second thought, he gargles mouthwash and heads to Jensen’s doorway. 

The guy is tucked into himself, like he always sleeps, facing the wall with the sheets resting at his hip. His hair goes everywhere, his mouth is sagging open, and he’s wearing a filthy, worn tee. But Jared thinks Jensen looks beautiful and peaceful and everything a sleeping person – someone you care about – is. He takes a deep breath before he can work his way to the bed and he carefully rests next to him. 

Jensen stirs with the weight and starts to turn over. His eyes find Jared and he’s sighing as he settles on his back. “You feeling better?”

“Yes and no.”

He rubs rough hands over his eyes to wake up and listen. But he’s not looking at Jared. “Hmm?”

“Jensen, I’m a dick. I know that. But … ” And there Jared stops to build up the words, the courage to keep this conversation going where he wants it to go. Because he knows that the sickness in his belly wasn’t the alcohol from last night and it’s not this morning’s hangover. It’s from disappointing Jensen and hurting him. Jensen still won’t look at him and he realizes he just has to go forward. “I got burned real bad. And it’s been a while since there was something else that made me kinda forget it. But then it freaked me out and I just kept saying that there wasn’t anything more than jerking off and whatever going on here, ya know? I’m sorry. I really am. I feel like such a shit.”

Jensen’s head finally moves. He looks over at Jared, still watching but not leaking any emotion. “What happened?”

Jared takes a deep breath because it’d been so long since he had to really face it all. “He cheated. Brought some guy home from the bar. Our bed.”

“You lived together?”

“Yeah. It was big time,” Jared tries to joke to ease the tension. “He, uh, he was at the bar last night and it just. It fucking wrecked me. He was being all cool and trying to talk to me and I don’t know. I didn’t know what else to do aside from drink.”

“And then you showed up here.”

“Yeah,” Jared sighs, realizing how ridiculous it all is. He came to Jensen when he was hurt, and then he turned around and hurt Jensen to hide that fact. “Jeff dropped me off.”

Jensen just nods, taking it all in. 

He prays he wasn’t too big an ass the night before, or that Jensen has a really big heart to forgive it all. Because he really likes being here in Jensen’s space, even if they’re not doing anything. Which should have been a tell-tale sign when they started spending more time eating and playing games than trying to rip their clothes off. Jared’s an idiot. 

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirks; he can’t help it. “Yeah, I know.”

Jensen lets out a long breath and then puts an arm out. “C’mere.” Jared turns into Jensen’s embrace, settling his head at his chest and not feeling weirded out by Jensen’s hand sweeping through his hair. Because he really likes it right there, even when it’s caused his skin to crawl these last four years. With Jensen it feels right, just like laying against him feels right. Jared’s always had height on his boyfriends and random one-nighters. And he has a few good inches on Jensen, but right here, he feels like the small one and he knows he needs it. He craves this comfort right here. Jensen sighs again. “Are you willing to admit this isn’t just a hookup?”

Jared’s voice is low. “I thought that’s what my apology was doing.”

Before he knows it, Jensen turns to him and Jared’s drowning in the green of his critical eyes. “Dude, serious.”

He winces a little. “Yeah. I kinda was being serious.” When Jensen’s hand swipes across Jared’s arm, he closes his hand around Jensen’s ribcage. It suddenly hits him; he likes this and wants to keep it. “I don’t want to let this go yet,” he finally says. 

Jensen’s arm goes higher on Jared’s and he leans over to kiss his forehead. “That’s better.”

*

So Jared and Jensen settle on being boyfriends and they spend an unreal amount of time with each other considering their work schedules – Jensen’s a typical 8-5 and Jared’s jumps from 10-6 to 1-9 depending on his day at the store. Fridays are questionable with Jared’s softball but Jensen usually shows up at the bar at some point in the night and hangs with the guys at their table. 

Jared’s teammates are happy for him because it’s like the light just fucking blares from his eyes and his smile. He’s happy nearly all the time and the only real outrage he shows on the field seems to be greatly justified on bad calls or just-missed plays. Other than that, he’s playing _phenomenally_ and it’s contagious. Gabe’s already quick hands turn to lightning as he and Jared flip double plays in their sleep. Chad can’t seem to miss a single ball fired his way. Dwayne and Jared are perfectly in tune as they share the left side of the infield. The outfielders are burning up the grass as they hustle for every flyball. And the hitting? It’s even sharper than ever. They charge through all of July demolishing the competition. And they’re having so much freaking fun out there that their time at the bar is just ridiculous and hysterical on a whole new level. Chad doesn’t pick on Gabe – as much – and the whole table seems to join in on full conversations instead of fracturing into their own mini chats. 

But in all realities, Jared knows there’s something beneath the surface that no one will address. And he’s kind of afraid to question it, really, because he’s trying to enjoy how things are going for him at the moment. He asks Jeff at the end of the month, after one of their Thursday night gatherings at the store. He just shrugs and won’t say much. But when Jared finally pins his brother down, the guy gets a little sheepish. “We’re chasing Going Deep. Everyone’s a little nervous, ya know.”

Jared’s face is relaxed and set. “We’re gonna fucking kill ‘em. What’s the problem?”

Jeff laughs and pats at Jared’s shoulder. “Alright, kiddo.”

The first Friday in August, Jared slugs the hell outta the ball. He’s three-for-three so far and it’s tingling from his fingers down into his toes. He’s so thinking about it, even when he shouldn’t jinx himself, but it’s feeling so good. His hands are sharp and quick. His legs solid and speedy. So when he’s in the field, he bends just so at the knees and hangs his arms low like jelly. His fingers are swiping at the dirt, creating little clouds between his legs. He smirks when he sees the batter distracted, watching him. 

The guy slaps the ball back at the mound, hitting Jeff’s legs before he can get a hand on it. The ball changes direction and heads between Gabe and Jared, but Jared’s got it, screaming hoarse at Gabe so he stays out of the way. Jared’s laughing at his brother while charging the ball; he’s already instinctive to the ball but still has fun with it all. Sprinting to his left, sweeping up the ball as it bobbles before his feet, and then he’s spinning on his left foot and firing with his right arm. The ball pegs Chad right in the chest, his hands cupping around it. The inning’s over and Jared’s hopping up and down with a huge smirk as Chad jogs over to him. They go so far as to leap and chest bump, and Jared feels like the lamest motherfucker ever, but he’s ecstatic and charged about that play.

When he’s next up, he sweeps the bat at his ankles and takes inventory of the outfield. They’re all pushed pretty far back but there’s no real gap anywhere for him to aim and he’s a little worried about that centerfielder. Guy’s got hops and took down a few of Chad’s and Jeff’s flyballs. But Jared eyes how the third baseman is shuffling closer to shortstop after Jared split their space with a quick single in the third. He’s watching him, his left eye casually floating there while his right is trained on the pitcher, who finally releases a pitch. Jared smacks the softball right along the first base line in a giant arch that he’s praying stays fair as he’s running to first. When he heads to second he hears Chad swear from his spot as third base coach. He looks back and the ball landed a good ten or so feet foul before anyone could get to it.

He jogs back to the batter’s box and settles back in, bat swinging below his knees before he brings it back up and sets. The whole field shifts a little to Jared’s right and he smirks. The pitch comes in high and at a sharp angle, so sharp Jared should lay off of it. But along with all that energy and positivity he’s been bringing to the field, there’s about a hundred tons of bravado behind him. So as that ball falls steeply towards his knees, he leans back then right into it and launches that softball in a line drive that zings over the third baseman’s head and keeps running itself along the baseline. He’s charging first and already on his way to second by the time the ball stops rolling and the left fielder is _just_ getting to it and hustling to throw it into third. Jared’s wheeling it and watching Chad watch the ball, shooting his arms down to get Jared to slide, and at the last second he yells, “Get the fuck here!”

Jared takes two more long steps then pulls his feet up to slide right into third, narrowly beating the throw. He pops back up to his feet while clapping, throws his arm into the high five with Chad, and laughs when his friend’s whining about the power behind it. 

The Gamecocks win their fourth game in a row by slaughter rule. It’s their seventh win of the season and gets them dead even with Going Deep who just finished playing and won their game. They can’t lose another game. They have to fend off the rest of the teams and keep beating everyone so they stay tied for first and get the best seed they can in the playoffs, which start next week. 

They’re so charged that when they’re leaving, no one notices – or doesn’t react – to Going Deep in the parking lot, packing up their cars. Jared’s just laughing with Chad to his truck and finding everything hilarious. The good mood is addictive, and he carries it with him for hours, it seems. 

Tom and Aldis are two spots over and offer a little head nod. Jared just stares. And so does Chad, because he really is a good friend in these kinds of situations. Chad grumbles, “Yeah, go fuck yourself.”

Jared’s chuckling and he sees a few other guys in Going Deep blue coming near. Bobby and the left fielder are talking and suddenly nodding at Jared and Chad, but again, they just glare back. “Hey,” the left fielder offers and Jared awkwardly nods. “What’s up?” 

His eyes squint, much like Chad’s at the guy trying to talk. They just shake their heads and get into the car so they can get to the bar and just get back to all the high energy and good juices they’ve got flowing. 

At Kenny’s, Jared’s super jumpy and excitedly trying to get into any conversation he can. He hasn’t felt this charged in weeks, but he knows it’s been building up all this time. 

Chad slaps Jared on the back as he returns from the bathroom. “Motherfucker! Couldn’t go for the cycle! Man, we’re gonna have to move you down in the order.”

“Shit, someone’s gotta make up for your pop-ups,” Jared’s laughing back. 

And they keep ribbing on each other over the miniscule mistakes they made, but it’s all in fun because they won and they’re playing just as good as last year, maybe better. If only they can take back that loss to Going Deep, then they’d be up in the clouds and loving every second of it. But they’re focused and so set on charging through the playoffs just the way they’re playing now. And dead set on meeting Going Deep at the end.

Around midnight, Jared’s sure he’s done drinking for the night and asks Chad to borrow his car.

“Dude, no. I told you, no gay sex in the truck.”

“Fucker,” and he smacks the back of his head. “I just need to get to his house.”

“When you gonna buy yourself a damned car? I can’t be your chauffeur 24/7.”

Gabe speaks up with a level voice, “You’re not, you’re just loaning him a car to go get gay sex.”

“My truck will not be part of any homo transactions. You can blow your boyfriend in the back of _his_ car.”

“C’mon. Gabe’ll give you a ride home and I’m sure he’ll blow you afterwards. Two-for-one.”

“My mouth and his dick are never getting together. I swear to God.”

“Funny,” Chad speaks up. “Your mom said the same thing just before I took her out to dinner.”

“Dude, not my mom,” Gabe whines, but Chad ignores him.

“I took her out to dinner and we had a lovely time. I even paid. And then I drove her home and walked her to the door.” Everyone’s watching Chad because he’s gone a few sentences without swearing and this is unheard of. “And then the next morning, she called and I told her I was sorry, but I just wasn’t feeling it because I wanted your sister, who _would_ suck my dick.”

“Dude.”

Jared chuckles and pushes at Chad. “Seriously awful.”

“I was going clean. It’s Gabe’s mom!”

“What stopped you before?” 

“She made brownies at his July 4th party. They were _amazing_ ,” and he seems to sigh with how great he feels about them.

Gabe laughs, “She makes the best pot brownies.”

“I love your mom!”

“Stop fucking talking about my mom.”

“I said good things! She bakes like a mean bitch.”

Jared cuts in, “Can I have your car?”

“Gaywad! How many times do I need to say no?”

Jared shakes his head and takes a big sip of beer before he refills his glass, knowing he’ll be there a while longer at this rate. It’s a little too late to try to grab the Red Line then transfer to the Green to get to Jensen’s. He’s not about to pay for a cab; he’s not _that_ desperate. It just would’ve been nice to get there.

He’s annoyed by it, but not totally pissed off, so he does his best to keep going with his friends and laugh through all their antics. But soon enough, he spots Tom and Mike and their buddy Aaron’s there, too, and they’re talking close before Aaron looks back at their table and pins Jared with his gaze. He looks away but manages to find them again as Tom’s watching him oddly. And Jared knew the guy so well for three years, but he can’t figure this look out. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

Soon enough, he’s stewing a little, because he still hates sharing this bar with them, and he’d been doing so well these last few weeks. Not caring, being able to not run into them with their games always falling at different times, meaning one team was showing up when the other was already settled and drinking and not paying attention to anything but each other. And it’s so easy when Jensen’s next to him and he’s not paying attention to anyone else. But Jensen bowed out on tire and didn’t come out.

For whatever reason, Tom won’t stop looking over and Mike pats a hand at Tom’s chest before heading towards their table. 

“Fuck,” Jared mutters and shifts in his seat, patting at Chad. “What’s this shithead want?”

He’s at the other end of their row of tables and talking to Dwayne and Cliff. Jared just watches the guy and tries to make out what’s going on. He’s not even sure, but it’s getting to him, he can feel it, and he wants to just jump out of his skin because he hates that it still does bother him to be wondering what Mike and Tom have going on, because he’s sure it’s nothing good.

Jeff looks across the table and waves for Jared’s attention. “Jay, it’s cool. Just ignore it.”

He shakes his head quickly and his knees are bopping so fast that anyone who looks can see how antsy he is. “I fucking _can’t_. I hate those fuckers.”

Jeff frowns then glances at Chad, who looks empty of any good ideas. “Alright, I’m gonna head out. Jay, you want a ride?”

His head pops up and he looks physically relieved at the idea. They’re gone immediately, and Jared can’t be more thankful in the car, practically begging his appreciation off on his brother.

“Jay, cool it. It’s fine.”

“Nah, I just … shit, I can’t do that. I can’t deal with them,” he’s rambling. And he knows he is, but it just comes while his knee pops up and down again. “I was feeling better about it, and it’s fine when Jen’s there, but every other time I see them on the field I just feel it and I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Jeff chuckles because his little brother is likely always going to have issues with these sorts of things – he knows deep down Jared’s a personable guy and hates when people don’t want to like him or be around him, takes it personally, and you add that onto the fact that Tom burned him, and he’s never going to deal well with Going Deep. Everyone knows this, but Jared usually keeps it clamped down enough. Though once a year he seems to have one of these little breakouts and Jeff’s glad enough that for once he can take him somewhere where it will be eased. 

“So, things are good with Jensen?”

Jared throws a hand through his hair. “Yeah, things are great. They’re awesome.”

“Really?” he smiles, so glad to hear it and kind of wanting to hear more of it. It’s been a while since his brother was good like that.

“Yeah. He’s awesome. I … It’s just great. I don’t know. I’m trying to not think about it so much and just be there, but you assholes keep asking me, so yeah. I … I really like the guy.”

Jeff reaches a hand over and clamps down on Jared’s shoulder. “Jared, that’s awesome. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. I’m happy for me, too. Is that dumb to say? I don’t know, but I am. I’m fucking ecstatic, it’s crazy.” His leg is back to stuttering quickly, but Jeff appreciates that this is a good movement and he doesn’t comment on it. This is the blubbery, rambly brother he loves to see.

He wakes Jensen, who has early plans with family but welcomes him in anyway. Jared burns all his nervous energy by screwing around with Jensen and they share a well-drawn out, well-timed orgasm that blasts them both so incredibly hard that Jared’s pretty sure he was right when he said everything was awesome. Because they fall asleep next to each other with Jared’s palm at Jensen’s stomach, and in the morning, he’s slowly woken with sloppy kisses that don’t really go anywhere because he’s trying to be good and let Jensen off in time. Even though he thinks he can see it in Jensen’s eyes that he wants Jared to make him late. He won’t, but he promises to stick around and make it up to Jensen when he returns that night. 

In the middle of all this, he realizes he’s falling in love with Jensen. That drunken night, with the early morning admittance of his issues was the first time he’d spent the night at Jensen’s. But it just broke things wide open because it’s now a surprise if he sleeps in his own bed anymore. And Chad makes jokes and gets pissy, but lets it go easily enough because he knows Jared wants this and he deserves it, and the guy is unstoppable on the softball field right now because he’s fueled by this, so it’s just got to be that way. 

Which only pushes Jared even further to just jump headfirst into Jensen and not question anything. It feels a lot like skydiving without a parachute, but Jensen surprises him on a daily basis by making him feel safe and cared for and he thinks loved. But no one’s saying it and they’re just going forward with the little moments speaking for themselves. Like the way they lean into each to watch movies. Or Jared making breakfast while Jensen snoozes his way through his alarm, hating mornings. Even the simple way they cuddle after sex and breathe silently with soft, caressing hands. 

It gets a little heady one day when Jared makes a run to the grocery store while Jensen’s in the shower, like it’s part of his duty in being there so often. Like he’s picking up food for Jensen _and_ him, not just restocking the food he’s eaten on Jensen. And it makes him grin for the entire trip, to the point that people are eyeing him oddly as he checks out produce but he doesn’t care. 

When he gets home from the store, he finds Jensen in the bedroom, laid out on the bed and watching TV with one arm curled beneath his head. Jared enters and keeps that same smile, eventually covering Jensen with his body so he can feel every inch of him. They kiss and it’s not rough, because it really isn’t anymore, unless they really want it to be. Right now, it’s languid with sweeping tongues that move just right while Jared swivels his hips so their dicks are sliding against each other. Jensen flips Jared to his back and he’s straddling his waist but still rocking against him. He holds Jared’s hands down to the mattress and mouths his way down his neck, eventually suckling at the edge of his collar bone. 

And there, Jared feels it and thinks about it and finally looks at Jensen. He asks softly. “Will you?”

“Will I what?” Jensen asks, just as quiet.

Jared just stares, as if he’s trying to get the courage from Jensen’s gaze. He pulls his leg around Jensen’s hip. “I want you.”

“Ya got me,” Jensen smirks, a little smug.

“No. In me.”

And Jensen stares back because they’d been over this a few times. In the beginning, when it really was just screwing around, Jared would swiftly move away from any chance for Jensen to get to him. Then once things were squared between them, he admitted that he hadn’t in so long because he didn’t trust anyone. Not for years.

But he does Jensen. And he realized it while squeezing cantaloupe in the produce section, because he never before cared if the fruit was perfectly ripe. But he wanted to pick the right one for Jensen. And it just clicked. 

“You sure?”

“I groped fruit for you. Yes, I’m sure.”

“Jare,” Jensen breathes out, like it means so much to even be asked. 

Slowly, Jared removes his shirt and watches Jensen pulls off his. Jensen takes down his pants, wanting to be naked before Jared and hoping it prolongs the guy’s confidence right there, hoping nothing shatters this moment. He imagines that if he goes too quickly with Jared, it will all halt and it’s the last thing he wants. Jared goes ahead and lifts his hips so Jensen can get his sweats down. Jensen pushes his knees apart, almost ready to dip down to kiss at his hard dick, because that’s what he always does. He looks at Jared for reassurance and Jared’s watching him and nodding. Jensen moves to the nightstand and retrieves the lube, trying so slowly to do this, to give Jared a chance to back out.

But he never does. He just slides further onto the bed so he’s flat as possible, so close to Jensen, and widens his legs. Jensen is about two seconds from tipping his finger into Jared’s hole and he looks for his reassurance again. And Jared gives it with another nod and the hesitation in Jensen’s eyes kill him there. 

At the same time, Jared right here is destroying Jensen because it’s not the Jared he met that night a dozen weeks ago at the bar. The one he blew in the backseat of his car, or the one who fingerfucked him blind. This is a whole new Jared, all open and vulnerable and caring and wanting Jensen to be there for him. And Jensen’s eyes are wide, like he’s a little scared, which freaks Jared out a little. That much is evident on his face.

Jensen leans forward, hands pressed into the mattress so he can hover over Jared, so he can slowly lower himself and kiss him. Long, lazy, easy. Like they have so often taken to doing lately. Jared’s legs go back around Jensen’s hips and he’s begging with his body. With his legs clamped down, his arms pulling Jensen in tight. With his mouth working itself so expertly with Jensen’s. 

Finally he pulls back and rests his forehead on Jared’s. “You sure about this?”

Jared’s eyes catch Jensen’s and he looks about twelve years old right there. Like he’s just a kid and not 28 with all these feelings for his boyfriend and ready to cross this bridge. “Yeah. So sure.” Jensen’s eyes close and Jared asks again, almost quieter than before, “Will you?”

Jensen nods against him, kisses him, and murmurs. “I love you, you know.”

It’s the first time he’s heard it in four years but it feels like the first time it’s ever been said. Jared’s hands hold his face so he can kiss him and thumb his cheek. “Yeah. Me, too.”

Jensen finally moves back between Jared’s legs, his hands gentle and slow as they skate across his thighs, over his knees, and down his calves. He keeps his eyes on Jared as he gets into place and his finger rubs around the edge of his hole. He sees Jared’s breathing catch but he’s smiling slightly, enough to tell him to keep going. So he pushes in and pulls out, only to push back in and smile at the way Jared’s starting to press back on him. He asks for a second finger and Jensen’s not sure it won’t hurt this soon, but Jared wants it, so he gives it to him.

He’s working two fingers into him, stretching and rolling within, getting Jared open while he can tell the rest of Jared’s body is dying for it to happen. Because Jared’s rocking forward, pushing his legs as far apart as possible, and pushing his palms against the headboard. 

“Jen,” he pants. “You gonna do this soon?”

“Don’t get so touchy,” he smirks. 

“I’m just wondering how fucking slow you’re gonna go.”

Jensen spins his fingers around, pushing the fingertips hard against the inside and making Jared keen forward. “Like that?”

“C’mon, seriously.”

“I don’t know. You sure you’re ready for this?” He’s checking with all honesty, but there is a playful light in his eyes as he waits for Jared’s command. 

“Uh, yeah,” he pants again. 

Jensen goes back to hovering over Jared, kissing and keeping his fingers going. Jared moans into his mouth and he finally pulls out to guide himself to the hole. The head is pushing so carefully and Jared’s groping Jensen’s hips to bring him in, but Jensen is pacing this and enjoying it and basically taking care of Jared. When he bottoms out, Jared’s eyes are dark but lazy and Jensen’s go much the same because it really has been months of screwing around but not being here, inside, so close to the core. And he loves it.

Loves enough that he has to start pulling out and pushing back in, has to keep moving because the friction is rippling against his dick and he can’t wait to get in time with Jared’s hips as they rock back on him. Soon enough, they’re good and Jensen lets himself down close to Jared so they can kiss and Jared’s dick gets its own friction between their bare stomachs. 

They’re panting and swearing and giving little ‘uh, uh’ and ‘ah, ah’ sounds through the whole thing. But there are no more jokes and no more complaints because Jared is loving Jensen right here, loving what Jensen is giving him, and taking it so well. Taking it because he trusts Jensen and wants him here. And Jensen just keeps pushing forward, knowing when he knocks Jared’s prostate because he hitches just so and there’s precum leaking between them. 

If Jared liked saying it, this is where he’d think about them making love. But he doesn’t and he won’t. Only a tiny corner of his mind really equates it to being so fucking close that his heart is pounding harder than any other time they mess around and his stomach is warming with it all. He can’t help how everything inside reacts, and he’s not even aware of how tightly he’s gripping Jensen’s hips to pull him even further into him and even faster than before. But it’s happening and soon enough, Jensen is no longer kissing him but just rutting right into him. His head is dropped down, his eyes clenched tight, and he’s so focused on the feeling and going with it. And Jared knows Jensen would think about making love, so he just smiles, knowing he’s giving this moment to Jensen while Jensen’s giving it right back to him. 

Jensen starts pounding faster, feeding the demons that are building his orgasm. And the head of his dick continues smacking Jared’s prostate, making him whimper and squeeze bruises into Jensen’s waist as they continue rocking so hard that the slick-slack of their bodies and Jensen’s hips hitting Jared’s ass are louder than their breathing. Until finally, Jared breaks and before he can make a sound, there’s cum shooting between them, soaking their stomachs. And the way his hole clenches on Jensen makes him wince, but he rides it out and soon enough he’s coming, warm liquid filling what little space there is within Jared’s ass. 

Jensen collapses hard, his head on Jared’s shoulder, sweat pilling itself all around his hairline and down his neck. And no one says a word, but they lay there longer than usual and just take in the noise of their steadying breathing and their pulses trying so hard to fall back to normal. 

“That all you got?” Jared asks gently, his voice lost and rough.

Jensen’s chuckle is dark as he pulls out and rolls to his back. Jared turns right into him, because it’s now unnatural for them to not touch after sex and he wants to be there. Cradled against Jensen’s chest and their legs twined together. Jensen’s hand sweeps through Jared’s hair with care, pushing it off his forehead. 

Jared’s breathing is finally stable and he lets out a content sigh. He burrows himself closer to Jensen and smiles. “Thank you,” he lets out.

*

That Friday, Jared’s playing just as hot as he’s been but the excitement is at an all-time high and everyone’s giddy with the infectious mood as they’re beating Jimmy’s Pub 4-0. When Jared’s taking a routine grounder, he tosses it to Gabe at second with a little high pitched “Heyo!” and Gabe’s laughing as he easily grabs it. He tags the bag then spins to launch the ball over to Chad for the double play to end the inning. The next inning, he does much the same thing. Scoop up the softball, make a ridiculous noise (a distinct ‘hi-ya!’) and fires the ball off at Chad, who easily catches it for the out. 

The whole team is playing ridiculously – well good, yes, but they’re all jumping around and making jokes on the field, being so incredibly loud. It’s getting to the point that other people are watching, namely other teams who are now joining the crowd to see what all the mêlée is about. And the only thing anyone can tell is that the Gamecocks have totally lost their minds and Jared is leading them into uncertain danger. On the field, most everyone is perfectly slotting into place while Jared and Gabe are chasing after the same balls, laughing at each other, and just narrowly avoiding collisions. And it’s continuing to amuse everyone. 

They’re easily winning the game, so it’s not a big deal to be so goofy. It’s not quite as strict as all the slaughter rules they’ve been handing down, but they’re up by five runs going into the bottom of the fifth and Jared’s feeling good at bat. Jeff’s hanging out on second, pointing fingers with a giant smile for his brother, and just waiting to be pushed home. Jared’s laughing at the plate, casually glancing around and he spots the competition taking it all in and he just beams. Because he likes that they’re all watching. He doesn’t care if they all think he’s crazy. Because he’s fucking enjoying himself and it’s awesome to be winning. 

He sets and watches the pitch come in a bit high and fast, so he lets it soar right past him out the strike zone for a ball. He takes one step out of the box, laughing at Dwayne as first base coach. The guy's mocking Jared’s batting rituals, swinging his arms down low like he’s got a bat and then sharply bringing it back and shaking his head back and forth. Jared doesn’t even care, he’s enjoying it and swings the bat low anyway. In a flash he catches Jensen leaning on the last rung of bleachers, arms folded on the top of the seat and grinning. Jared grins right back and goes so far as to wink at his boyfriend, floored to all of heaven because this is the first time he’s seen him at a game. He’s never even asked because for as much as he talks about softball with the guys, he just goes about his business with Jensen and deals with everything else between them.

So, he’s ready and amped and waiting, but the next pitch is a bit too far out and he lets it land for another ball to bring the count to 2-0. Jared steps back again, looks over to Jensen, and smirks. But the lips start to drag down when he sees Tom and Mike just beside him and Jensen nods at them when they say something.

Jared takes a deep breath, trying to will it away, because he’s been on cloud nine all day and they’ve been playing on autopilot, this is no time to do something wrong. He sweeps the bat low, brings it up, and finally swings at the pitch, launching it just over short center’s head. Jeff’s off the minute Jared smacked the ball and Jared’s running himself to first. He can see Jensen clapping from the corner of his eye. Jared’s trying to keep an eye on the center fielder coming in to grab the ball, but then he hears Dwayne calling “No, no, no, no!” as he’s heading to to second. It’s then that he realizes the center fielder already _had_ the ball and is running in to throw to second. Jared puts the breaks on, feeling a distinct _snap_ at his right ankle with the quick stop. He pivots back and realizes he’s a good fifteen feet from first and the fielders are barreling down on him, armed with the ball. 

Dwayne crouches low and smacks the ground with his palms. “Get back! C’mon!”

Jared twists up to his left foot, takes three quick, painful steps, trying so hard to dig those cleats into the dirt for leverage. He then kicks the last step out so he can slide headfirst into the base, his fingers stretched so far and eventually closing around the corner of the first. When Dwayne pounds on the dirt again, he knows he’s out. He can’t manage anything more than rolling to his back and breathing heavily, panting with anxiety of the whole thing. And he realizes that maybe that was why he never asked Jensen to come to a game, because the minute he saw him, he knows he lost track of trying to just score a fucking run and instead wanted to go crazy for his boyfriend, stretching a single into a double. Instead, he twisted his ankle and was still out to end the inning. 

Dwayne grabs at his shoulders to help him up and dust him off. “C’mon, asshole. We got three more outs,” he says unkindly. 

“Fuck,” Jared shouts, smacking his hands into the dirt before he gets to his feet. His ankle feels a little shaky, and it’s piercing with a bit of pain. But he’s played through worse and there’s just one inning left. Maybe no one will hit the ball at him.

But they do, of course. As if they know he’s playing injured and suddenly off focus as he’s resting more weight on his left than his right, and when he has a chance, he looks over to Jensen who has a hat on backwards and is watching everything on the field. Not just Jared, but Chad as he edges closer to a runner, waiting for Jeff to toss the ball over. Or each and every pitch Jeff tosses over the plate. Or how Gabe inches himself to his left when a lefty’s up to bat. And it’s bothering Jared that he can’t stop watching Jensen watch the game. He should like that his boyfriend cares enough to see through every play and know what it all means. But it’s really taking up a majority of his concentration to see it happen.

He’s able to field two balls for outs, but the guy on first had gotten the better of him, making him shift to the side and limp to his left foot bad enough that he misthrew to Chad. The next batter launches a ball far and clear to left-center, perfectly picking a spot that neither of the outfielders can get to quickly. Jared steps up to the edge of the grass and waits for the cutoff throw while the runner from first sprints his way towards home and he hears the solid footsteps of the batter heading to second. The ball gets launched to Jared and he hears the runner pass him. As soon as the ball touches his hands, he’s turning and firing it home, ignoring the pinch in his ankle yet again. John’s scooping it off the dirt, but it’s too late. 

The batter collects his inside-the-park homerun and the whole team cheers over it. Jimmy’s Pub is just three down with one out . They’re pumping each other up and egging one another on to keep it going.

Jared’s huffing and planting hands at his hips, wanting to yell at someone, but it’s not like he didn’t do what he could or anyone else for that matter. The guy got a rocket on that ball and just ran like the wind. 

The next batter, much like the others, smacks a grounder between Jared and Dwayne. Jared turns right and feels a tweak of muscle fire off more pain and he’s trying, so hard, to get through this because they just need two more outs. But he bumbles the ball and Dwayne grabs at it to salvage the whole thing and avoid the guy running to second for free. Next guy? Same spot, and when Jared starts to shuffle over, Dwayne yells loudly and angrily, “Got it!” He charges the ball, grabs, glances at second, and sees there’s no chance to cut off that guy. He throws it to Chad to get that guy out. When he gets back near third base, he levels a finger at Jared. “You don’t fucking move.”

Jared wants to yell back and get angry, but he knows he shouldn’t have gone after that grounder, he knows it was closer to Dwayne. But he's still running on all that crazy energy he’s been carrying for weeks that makes him believe he can and subsequently actually is able to handle any ball hit on his side of the infield. And more than that, he’s trying to make good plays to prove he’s okay. Instead he just huffs, “Shit,” to himself. 

To ease himself, he looks out to the stands and sees Jensen. The guy is still standing near Tom and Mike and at one point he turns towards them and says something. And it’s then that Jared realizes he’s wearing a bright blue tee, the same as all of Going Deep. “What the fuck?” he whispers while he’s looking and paying so little attention to anything else on the field that he’s shot with a line drive right in the chest. 

The pain pierces his ribcage and he stumbles back on his ass then sees the softball bouncing right in front of him. With all the noise around him, he realizes it’s in play so he grabs it and backarms it to Dwayne to get the runner out at third. 

The game is over and they’ve won, but no one is exactly happy. It should’ve been easier in that last inning and they know Jared’s off. Which, as infectious as his good moods are, his bad ones are even worse. So they’re all weird and a little crabby. Dwayne yanks at Jared’s arm to get him off the dirt but doesn’t say another word to him. Chad smacks a hand at the back of his head when they’re closer. “You fuck up your ankle?”

“Yeah,” he huffs out, still not sure what’s going on. As he walks through the line and hands out ‘good game’ to everyone, his other hand is stroking his chest where the ball is still stinging inside. Once he’s done, he doesn’t turn to his team like they always do, sharing their own fives. Jared practically stalks off the field and to the bleachers. As he closes in on Jensen, the guys from Going Deep seem to turn to something more interesting like they don’t recognize that Jared is right there. 

Jensen’s hand pats over Jared’s, still on his chest. “You okay?” he’s smirking. “That had to hurt like a bitch.”

Jared tugs at the middle of Jensen’s shirt, like he wants to better read the words. _Going Deep_ in big red letters, outlined in white. Jensen looks down to what Jared’s staring at and it’s obvious he’s confused. “What is this?” Jared asks quietly.

“It’s my shirt,” he replies with a ‘duh’ quality to his tone.

Jared looks up to the guys around them, to Tom and Mike and Aldis and Aaron and everyone else he would like to see die in a fiery plane crash. Then he looks back to Jensen, the guy he spends all his free time with and loves and says and does the most intimate things with. “You’re on their team.” It’s not even a question, because Jared cannot believe it at the moment and is too bewildered to even say it properly. 

He’s not sure what else happens, but he does hear Jensen ask, “Jare, what’s up?” like he always does when he’s confused by Jared’s behavior. Jared ignores everyone else around them, sighs, and walks away. He meets up with his team on the other side of the dugout as they’re all getting their equipment together and changing out cleats. 

Chad looks up as he passes, grabs his arm. “Everything okay?”

But Jared ignores that, too, and just grabs his things so he can get away from the field and Going Deep and the idea that his boyfriend plays for the enemy.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes a few beers before Jared opens up. He’s pretty quiet and everyone tries to talk around him, but he suddenly calls out during a lull in conversation, “How the fuck did I not know?”

“You didn’t?” Gabe asks.

“What? Like everyone else did?”

Jeff leans forward. “Jay, seriously? How could you not know?”

Jared throws his fingers into his chest – it still kind of hurts, but he’s doing his best to hide the pain he’s got going on everywhere. “That’s what I’m asking!”

Chad takes a deep breath and waves a quick hand to everyone else before he leans forward. “You really didn’t know?”

He’s almost shouting now because he just cannot believe it. Believe it’s true, and that his whole team knew and he didn’t. “No! I didn’t!”

Gabe looks confused. “Like, you guys never talked about it?” 

“No. Not once,” Jared replies, smacking his hand at the table. “He never said it.” He smacks the table again. “Jesus. He never asked how the games were.” He throws a hand into the air. “He already knew!”

Chad repositions himself and gets a little closer to Jared. “Jay, just think about it for a second here,” he starts carefully. But then he goes on with the typical Chadness of being short and crabby. “You fucking met him here. He was always fucking here.”

“I thought it was for me!”

He’s shushed up by Chad because Going Deep is entering the bar, all dusted up in their blue shirts and black shorts. They spread out to grab pitchers at the bar before moving to the far corner. But Jared doesn’t ignore how most of them look over at the table. And he can’t help but wonder what’s going on when Jensen isn’t with them. 

Which makes him suddenly declare, “That fucker was _never_ in uniform!”

Everyone seems to let Jared off the hook for a moment as they recall that Jensen always showed up in a tee shirt and jeans, looking casual and clean. Like he’d just showered … and that dawns on Jared. Jensen always came in so much later because he’d go home, shower, and come back out. Jared feels like an idiot to the nth degree and has no one to blame this on. Because he never asked what Jensen did on his Fridays before coming out to Kenny’s. He never thought to ask why Jensen kept baseball bats in the coat closet or how he actually owned a few pairs of cleats that looked broken in. And he had so heartily hated Going Deep all season long that even when one guy was nice to him, he ignored him and didn’t realize it was Jensen, giving him praise and congratulations. 

He’s drawn from his thoughts when he sees Tom and Mike enter the bar with Jensen behind them. Jared scowls at the sight of the three together, but then he just stares as the two go one way and Jensen heads toward him. He hasn’t changed; he’s still in his dark shorts and sandy jersey tee with the hat on, shielding most of his face. So Jared’s really unsure of things when he asks him to step outside so they can talk. 

Jared realizes he’s not so much pissed anymore because Jensen’s in front of him and he’s realizing that he could really fuck everything up if he throws a temper tantrum just because the guy’s on the other team. Yeah, it pisses him off to hell, and he almost wishes he could have gone through the rest of the season under the covers to the fact that his boyfriend even _liked_ softball. Let alone played in his league with those assholes. 

“What’s wrong?” Jensen asks as soon as they’re out the front doors.

Jared takes a deep breath because he feels so stupid in this moment. But he says it anyway. “I didn’t even _know_ you played.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know that you played. That you were in my league. That you were on …” Jared points back at the bar and his voice and face get angry. “ _That_ team.”

“How could you not?” Jensen asks him, like he’s the stupidest person on the planet.

He pretty much feels that way. “You never said anything about it!”

“Because I thought you were all up for rivalries and not mentioning it. Like ‘don’t talk about Fight Club.’”

“Shit,” Jared huffs, pushing hair away from his face and turning away. 

“Jare, c’mon. It’s just softball.”

There, he wheels around and fires back. “No, it’s isn’t just fucking softball! It’s, it’s … it’s fucking them!” Again he points angrily to the bar. 

“You do realize they don’t hate you even half as much as you guys hate them?”

Jared wants to tear his hair out because Jensen is being too calm and acting like this is all just a little road block for them to talk through. Like he always does. Jensen never gets mad; he goes quiet and easy, and they talk things out. Jared craves the anger and the yelling and the chance to just get the frustrations out, but Jensen never gives him that. And it’s killing Jared. He wants to scream and throw shit and punch someone, but Jensen keeps staring at him like it’s not a big deal. Jared steps away and calms a little, but he’s still loud. Just not as angry. “Jen! It’s them! You can’t … there is no way you play with them!”

“What is the big deal? It’s just a dumb rivalry.”

“No! No, it’s fucking not!” He huffs again and finally asks miserably, “How do you even _know_ them?”

“I used to work with Mike and Tom.” 

Jared flinches at the name, because he’d promised himself that night in Jensen’s bathroom that he wouldn’t use it again. It shocks him how much it still hits him. 

“What’s the problem?”

Jared tries for even breathing. He pushes his palms into the air and goes back to Jensen. “Jen, it’s him. He’s the one.”

Jensen shakes his head. “Who?”

His hands settle on Jensen’s shoulders for support and he finally says it. “Tom. He’s the fucking guy.”

Jensen holds onto his elbows to keep him close. “What _guy_ , Jared?!”

“The one who … he …” Jared is stunned by his inability to even say it. He really thought he was past this the minute he realized how much he cared for Jensen. And he’d already told him the story, but putting a face to the criminal is serving to be difficult. “The one I told you about.” When Jensen’s face won’t open up with the realization, he continues. “That got me. That … the cheating.”

“Tom?” Jensen finally asks. “You were with Tom?”

“Yeah.”

It doesn’t take Jensen long to even it all out, like he usually does. Like he did that night they went from just randomly screwing to being together. Jared kind of loves how Jensen just takes things in and deals – he sort of wishes he had that power, especially right now. “You don’t want me to play with them because he hurt you?”

Jared finally smiles. “Yes! Exactly!”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jared frowns. “What?”

Jensen moves his hands to Jared’s shoulders and they squeeze with meaning. “Look, I’m sorry he did that. Really. You know that. But you are not asking me to quit the team.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s ridiculous!”

Jared nearly screeches, “Well, _I’m_ not quitting!”

“I didn’t ask you to!”

Jared shrugs away from Jensen and stalks a few feet away. “Well, what then?”

Jensen’s voice goes easy. “Jared, I don’t care that you’re on the other team. I thought it was funny, actually.”

He shakes his head and looks down, resting a hand at the back of his neck. His laugh is humorless. “Fucking hysterical.”

Jensen gets closer and his tone, again, is a little playful. “Seriously, how did you not know? I was always trying to talk to you.”

Jared sighs and realizes there’s no easy way out of this conversation without him being a complete and utter baby. He takes an incredibly deep breath and faces Jensen, reaching a finger out to flick the brim of his cap. “Your face was always hidden. I thought you were just some other douchebag.” Then it hits Jared and he smacks Jensen’s shoulder. Hard, because this is how he’ll get his anger out. “You’re the asshole who stole my homer!”

Jensen laughs with pain as he rubs his arm. “Yeah. I thought that’s why you came up to me in the bar that night.”

He snorts and pushes at Jensen’s shoulder again. “It was just because you were hot.”

“Were?”

Jared sighs and shakes his head. He moves in close, dipping his head beneath the edge of Jensen’s hat. “I guess you still are,” he says pitifully, like he’s giving in but doesn’t like it. Because he really doesn’t. He kisses Jensen then backs off with another sigh. “You’re seriously not going to quit?”

Jensen shakes his head and still looks like he can’t believe Jared would bother asking. “Not right before the playoffs.”

“How about before you play us in the championship?”

“I’ll think about it … but you’d have to make it there.”

Jared sees Jensen’s look and it’s a cross between playful and smug. So he punches him in the chest. “Fucker.” 

Jensen’s smirking and pushes a hand at Jared’s chest. “How’s your ankle?”

He looks down at it and sighs. Then he frowns because in all the rush of being pissed with Jensen for being on Going Deep, he’d actually forgotten about the pain for a little while but it’s back now. “I’ll live.”

Jared doesn’t say more so Jensen leans closer and takes a peak from under the lid of his hat. “We okay?”

He sighs and goes back to the bar. “I need a beer.”

*

They’re relatively okay. Jared doesn’t bring it up and neither does Jensen. So it feels basically like nothing ever happened, except Jared won’t stay the night anymore. He still sees Jensen every day because after trying not to that Sunday, he realized it kind of sucked and gave up on the whole embargo. But he’s not going to stay the night and is usually creeping out once Jensen’s sleepy. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he’s suddenly thinking about ways that Jensen could use this to Going Deep’s advantage. Like they’ll know how slowly his ankle is healing (he’s going to play, there’s no doubt on that, but he doesn’t need people to know about it) and that they should go to his right and make him re-injure himself or make it worse. He’s suddenly leery about even mentioning any of the guys on his team because what if he suddenly lets it out that Chad can’t lay off deep pitches, thinking the angle’s going to help him, but all that happens is he grounds out. Or maybe he’ll slip out that Jeff’s not so great handling balls hit right back at him – as evidenced by the game two weeks ago when he fumbled it and Jared came up to relieve him. He just doesn’t need to chance it.

He knows it’s foolish and that Jensen knows it’s happening, and more so that Jensen thinks it’s irrational for him to be suddenly so careful of what he says, like Jensen would be a spy. And Jensen’s told him this numerous times, and each time Jared admits he _knows_ it’s dumb, but he’s doing it. That they won’t discuss anything to deal with softball or the people on either team until after the season’s over. Then they can go back to normal. That if Jensen believed they were playing ‘don’t talk about Fight Club’ then they would continue doing so.

The whole thing doesn’t just fuck up his relationship with Jensen or his mind, it’s blowing his play. In addition to his ankle, which he contends is perfectly fine (it’s not, he wraps it under his socks and is constantly giving more effort to his left), he screws up a few plays on the field by not focusing. And everyone knows it. It’s not enough to cost the first game in the playoffs against Survivors, who they had beat easily during their July assault. They still win 8-6, but it’s just like with Jimmy’s Pub, the game that he hurt himself. In the last few innings, he fumbles easy grounders, he twists funny to grab at line drives, and he mishears Dwayne call ‘got it!’ thinking it was ‘get it!’ and they run into each other and mess up that whole play. The game should’ve easily been slaughter rule again, but he hit into two double plays, and on the field he gave away a few extra baserunners that wound up scoring. He’s absolutely lost. 

At the bar, most everyone is ignoring him, like that’ll help things. It only makes him pissier. Enough so that he’d rather just go home and be on his own than watch his friends have fun and purposely not include him. He asks Chad for his keys and the guy gives his patented “Fuck off.”

“C’mon. I’m just going home.”

“How the hell’m I getting home?”

“Gabe?” Jared shrugs and eyes the shortstop.

“Dude,” he responds. “Do not get me into this.”

“Into what?” Jared asks, a bit bothered because Gabe just turns and ignores him again. He sighs and looks at Chad again. “Dude, come on. Just gimme the keys.”

“Fuck. Off.”

Jared scowls at that and wonders why Chad’s being especially douchey tonight and hardly saying more than two words to him at a time or not even bothering to look at him. Jared knows he’s been playing shitty the last two weeks with the whole Jensen issue, and his brother, Dwayne, and Chad each have dropped hints about him needing to cool off and get over the games (read: the way Jensen is fucking up his mind and thus his playing). But he’s just shrugging them off with attitude and telling them to leave him alone, that nothing’s wrong. Even when everything is.

It’s worse on Tuesday when the guys show up for their meeting and crowd around the weight benches again. Chad’s not screwing around on the treadmill or an elliptical, like normal, and everyone else is kind of serious for once. Jared’s not even looking forward to dealing with them right now, but he’s basically hoping that they’ll act like nothing’s wrong and just let everyone get back to the business of playing softball. As soon as he’s in the area, he can tell that’s not what’s going to happen.

Chad clears his throat and looks to the paper in his hands. It’s his notes on what to bring up (he takes these meetings a bit too seriously sometimes). “First order of business. Batting practice on Thursday instead of the meeting. 7pm at Stan’s. Yeah?” 

Jared purses his lips and crosses his arms at his chest but doesn’t say anything.

“Jared?” Chad asks tightly. 

“Some of us have to work.”

“Then find your own batting cages.” He pauses, waiting for Jared to say more, but when he doesn’t, he looks at his sheet and continues. “Two. You all gotta get your ears fucking cleaned out and listen on the field. People are making calls and other people aren’t listening.”

And Jared sighs again because he knows Chad is talking about when he misheard Dwayne and they screwed up that play. 

“Yeah?” Chad asks, angry and staring right at him.

“Nothing,” he replies rather miserably.

“Third. I don’t wanna see any more whining or crying or pouting out there. We’re the fucking Gamecocks and we gotta act like we always do, alright?” Jared glares again, about to actually say something, but Chad cuts in. “Which leads me to four, and Jared?”

“Yeah?” Jared asks tiredly.

“Will you make up with your gay boyfriend so you can stop whining and crying and pouting and just fucking play?”

He crosses his arms tighter. “There’s nothing to make up. We’re fine.”

“Right. Because as much as I hated not seeing you when you were living up his asshole? I fucking hate seeing you mope around the couch and taking up my porn time. Go talk to him.”

Jared grumbles, “Whatever,” and moves away from the area, doing some actual work for the first Tuesday night all summer. 

He’s on edge for the next half hour, waiting for any of the guys to come up and add on to the pep talk. But they don’t. And that just makes him more pissed.

*

That Wednesday and Thursday he makes his way out to the batting cages on his own and blows Jensen off. He knows it’s awful, but he’s not going to hear the end of it from the guys if he shows up on Friday and plays badly. And yeah, Jensen and him … whatever’s going on … it’s messing with his brain. But he figures if he just gets some space from it all, it’ll make its way out of his head and let him play how he’d been doing all summer.

It isn’t until Friday when he’s there early, taking the El from work and walking over to the field – avoiding Chad as much as possible and only giving a short text _Meet there_ – that he realizes this plan to just sort of ignore Jensen until the playoffs are over is quite possibly one of the stupidest things he’s ever thought up. 

Going Deep is on the field and playing well and it should bother him, but he sees Jensen walk to the batter’s box and he has to watch. Because even when he faced Jensen back in early June, he didn’t know it was him and he didn’t have these feelings for the guy. Seeing him set at the plate is an unearthly kind of turn on that Jared didn’t know was possible. He’d always enjoyed watching Tom play way back when, appreciating the athleticism and how mechanical Tom was about everything he did. His swing was always pitch-perfect and his fielding was timed to the second. But here, Jensen is loose and pliable. Easily rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet and waiting for the pitch.

When he shoots the ball out to right field, his first steps are immediate and quick. Jensen claps as he sees the ball roll out further from the fielder’s reach and he speeds up to round first and stroll into second for an easy standup double. Jared breathes deep and realizes he’s kind of happy for Jensen right there. It was a solid, well-placed hit with just the right amount of power on it to get him into second easily. And his running was effortless and smart, not trying to overdo it, but giving enough speed to get where he needed to be. Smart and effective. Like he is with Jared when they’re together. Not overdoing it, but getting it done efficiently.

Jared rests head at the top seat of the bleachers and thinks about it for just a few seconds. On how stupid he’s been and that he wants things to go back how they were. And who cares if Jensen wears Going Deep blue? He doesn’t wear it every other day of the week, and it’s not like being on the team makes him an automatic asshole. Because he’s a pretty awesome boyfriend and good and fun for Jared, so he must be the exception to the rule.

When he looks back up, he sees Jensen pull his batting gloves off and stick them in his shorts pockets. He adjusts his hat and is watching the bleachers, seeing Jared. Jensen steps his other foot onto the bag and then steps to his left. Then another quick movement to go back to his right and take a small leadoff. Like he’s rearranging himself because it’s strange to find Jared there. Two pitches go foul and a few are tracked as balls, and during that at-bat, Jensen swings his hat around so the brim points behind him and he goes so far as to raise his sunglasses. Jared knows he’s been seen, and he just rests his chin on his arms, continuing to hide behind the bleachers and just watch. Everyone knows what happened when Jensen watched Jared play and blew his mind. He doesn’t really want the same to happen here.

And it doesn’t. Because the next batter’s on with a quick single, easily sending Jensen to third. Then Tom’s up and he rockets a ball into left-center so Jensen can jog his way home. He gives fives to his teammates for the run and makes his way out towards the bleachers. 

“Hey.”

Jared almost frowns because he really feels like an asshole but doesn’t know what to say. He raises a feeble hand. “Hey.”

Jensen steps up a few planks and settles near Jared, but far enough to not be forced. “Where’s everyone at?”

Jared looks up to him, feeling kind of stuck and not knowing how to take the situation. He only intended to waste his time watching another game before they had to play. He didn’t realize it was Jensen’s, but then he couldn’t _not_ watch Jensen. And right now, he feels like he can’t talk to him because he doesn’t know what to say, but at the same time, he can’t _not_ talk to Jensen. He shrugs and looks at his hands as the fingers twine together. “It’s still a little early.”

He sees Jensen nod, but he’s watching the play on the field. Which makes the conversation even harder for Jared. “Who’re you playing?”

“Masterbatters.”

“Gonna win?”

Jared can hear the smirk in Jensen’s voice, which lets him smile a tiny bit. Just a bit. “I sure hope so. We beat them good during the season.”

“Was it a slaughter?”

“Yeah. But who knows now?”

Jensen glances back quickly. “Why?”

Jared shrugs again. “My ankle’s still messed up. And they’re all pissed at me.”

Jensen turns a bit to look at him from over his shoulder. He asks awkwardly, “Chad just dump you off?”

“No. I took the train.” When Jensen’s eyebrows go high, he further explains. “I didn’t want to deal with them. I came straight from work.”

Someone yelling “Shit!” from the field breaks the conversation and they realize Going Deep’s back on the field. Jensen moves down the seats, but stops near the end and looks at him. “You hanging around a little?”

Jared catches his breath and nods. 

Jensen nods and hustles out to left field so the inning can start up. Jared is getting pretty into the game – he’s always loved baseball and softball and wouldn’t not play for any reason in the world, he’s pretty sure. So when he realizes he’s actually not going anywhere any time soon, especially after telling Jensen he wasn’t, he settles on the top rung of the bleachers and watches. He’s not even sure what the score is, but Going Deep has to be winning because he knows they scored a good four or five runs that last inning and they’re expertly keeping the competition from getting on base. 

Jared sees a big, tall beast of a guy at the plate and he knows that guy is the batter on that team; he always rocketlaunches the ball far back on nearly anyone. When the Gamecocks play that team, he’s pretty much responsible for the only runs they allow, because they just can’t stop him. But Jared’s speechless when the ball is socked into the air like speeding missile, hanging so hard with the clouds, and Jensen’s racing out far and keeping up with the thing. He’s watching the arc it takes up and eventually loses as it plummets back down to earth with such velocity that Jared knows it’s going to hurt someone. Jensen’s still running after it and eventually leaps out, two arms stretched as far as possible, and grabs the thing inches from the grass. He thumps hard into the ground and Jared can just imagine the wince on Jensen’s face and how those fingers are going to sting with the speed of that falling ball. But he just rolls over like it’s nothing and raises his hand, ball in his palm. And Jared’s smirking just a bit because Jensen just stole that godzilla’s homerun and he knows how that feels. But also because it's Jensen’s and he’s impressed with his fielding.

Going Deep finishes the game just minutes later, having easily ended the inning and taking slaughter rule. It puts them in the final round, which makes the Gamecocks’ already-important game even higher on the list of things to do right. They win tonight and they’re facing Going Deep in the Championship Game next Friday. Jared wants that so badly, but he’s still feeling awkward about the whole my-boyfriend-plays-for-the-enemy thing.

Jensen settles back on the bleachers, apparently ignoring how the rest of the team is eyeing Jared oddly. Jared scruffs fingers at the back of his head and Jensen’s watching him. He slides over to bump Jared’s knee. “Don’t worry about it.” Actually, Jensen hadn’t ignored it.

He grumbles back, “Too late for that.”

Jensen bumps his knee again. “How’ve you been?”

Jared shrugs. “I saw you Monday.” Jensen’s glare is not entirely pissed but it’s not undeserved, either. “Yeah, I know. I suck, alright?”

“Yeah, you kinda do. So what’s the deal? We breaking up or something?”

Jared’s thrown by how easily the words slip out of Jensen’s mouth. Though, it kind of makes sense, given how easy and steady Jensen has always been when they’re having issues. Like he just has to say it and have it be done, no messing around and hiding things. It’s hard compared to Jared’s typical nature of yelling, ignoring things, and then going back to normal when the storm blows over. But Jared also realizes he doesn’t really want to let this slip through his fingers. “No.”

“Then what’s up?”

He takes a deep breath and can’t stop watching Going Deep all around them, like they’re just taking their time to make him more miserable.

Jensen grabs his elbow. “Let’s go to the car.”

Jared rises and sighs in relief. As soon as they’re out of eyesight, he relaxes and talks. And talks. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m a baby about this shit. I don’t know what to do about it, and it’s bothering me, too. And it’s worse because the guys are all giving me shit and it’s making me play like ass. I don’t want it to be like this. I want it just to be the way it’s been the last few months.”

So easily, as he always does, Jensen replies level-headed. “It doesn’t have to be different.”

“But it is.”

He huffs a little. “No, Jared, it’s not. We’ve been playing this whole time. You just didn’t know it before.”

Jared sighs. “That’s kind of a big deal, you know?”

“Just knowing?”

“Yeah.” Jared turns away and sees all the blue shirts still by the bleachers, and then he catches a few green tees making their way to the field. It’s Chad, Gabe, and John. Seconds later, his phone is ringing in his pocket. 

Chad barks at him, “Where’re you at?”

“I’m in the lot. I’ll be there in a few.” He sees Chad turn their way and he gives a pathetic wave in return. 

Chad rambles off quickly. “You better be making things right. You’re a complete asshole when you’re single.”

He snorts. “Thanks. I’ll remember that next time you ask for money.”

“Four years? Asshole. Three months and you’re an angel. Fix it.”

Jared harps back, “Shut up, dick.”

“Whatever, this is old.” And the line is dead. 

“Everything okay?” Jensen asks.

He sighs again while staring at his phone. “Yeah. Apparently I’m supposed to apologize and make everything okay now.”

“Well, if that wasn’t so pathetic, it’d almost be adorable.”

Jared looks up and sees Jensen’s smirk, but he also sees a little bit of annoyance. He knows he’s awful at apologizing and dealing with these sorts of things. He’s never been good at it. He always pouts and crabs, and makes it worse. And it’s likely not to change anytime soon, but he’d like the chance to do it. Which is exactly what he tells Jensen. Ending the whole ramble with a pitiable, “You know, if you’d give me that chance. And, like, help me through this.”

Jensen sighs, shaking his head. But then he’s moving close and his hands tightly grip at either side of Jared’s jaw, nearly shaking him. “What the hell’m I gonna do with you?”

He shrugs a little and his face shows a degree of uncertainty. “Keep me?”

“Fuck,” he sighs, nearly smirking. “You are actually really good at apologizing. You know that?”

Jared can’t bring himself to smile, even if he realizes that Jensen’s accepting his pathetic apology. Because he still feels like an asshole that there was anything to say sorry for in the first place. “No, I didn’t.”

“Man, you just turn on the sad eyes and let it all leak out. How’m I supposed to say no?”

Jared finally feels a little good. Not great, but it is the best he’s felt since the whole thing blew up two weeks ago, he’s pretty sure, so that’s something. His voice gets a little humor. “I don’t think you’re supposed to. Really, you shouldn’t. Because I’m kind of ridiculously hot and the sex is unbelievable.”

Jensen’s hands ease up and slide down to Jared’s neck, holding softly. “I think you should stop while you’re ahead.”

“Alright,” he relents. 

“How’s your ankle?”

“It’s fine,” he answers easily. But then Jensen’s glaring at him and he sighs for like the twentieth time since he got to the field. “It’s getting there.”

Jensen’s hand sweeps the side of his head and when it settles, his thumb rubs just before his ear. “You gotta take care of it.”

“I am.”

“If you’re gonna pout next week, it better not be because it hurts too much to play good. It better be because we beat you.”

“Asshole,” Jared grumbles as he pushes a fist into Jensen’s stomach. “We are not losing.”

Jensen playfully slaps at Jared’s head. “Gotta win tonight first.”

“Not gonna lose tonight either.” Jared punches him again, a little harder. When Jensen winces, Jared tugs on his elbow. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

Jensen watches him and he can hear more in it – it’s not just for hitting him a bit too hard, but for the last two weeks. He catches Jared's shoulder and squeezes. “So now what? Can we hug? I don’t even know how you are with this public stuff.”

Jared chuckles because even when Jensen came out every week to the bar, they just sat side by side and barely touched more than a few bumped knees. It never felt weird; he just really liked having Jensen with him and kept all the touching to when they were alone. And maybe a little to save the guys from watching them, and a little to save him and Jensen the hassle of Chad berating them for being too touchy. “Yeah, whatever. I’m a total hugger,” he says as his arms wrap Jensen against his chest. “You’ll see a lot of this when we win next week.”

Jensen embraces him back just as firm, palms pressing into Jared’s back and his cheek pressed against Jared’s. “You mean you’ll be crying on shoulders when we win?”

He sighs and squeezes hard. “Can we make a deal? I promise to actually stay the night if we don’t talk about this.”

Jensen slides back a few inches to see his face. “You’re really that bothered about this?”

He shrugs within the hold they’re not releasing. “I just … Not to be a pussy, but I just want you back. None of the other bullshit.”

Jensen’s hand slides up to the back of Jared’s head and he smiles kindly. “For the record. You can be a pussy any time you want. I won’t take offense.”

Jared sighs harshly. “Well, _I_ will. Especially when Chad and Jeff rip me a new asshole for it.”

“What is Chad doing anywhere near your asshole?”

He rolls his eyes and moves back, slapping a palm at Jensen’s cheek in fun. “It’s a figure of speech, jerk.”

Jensen teasingly smacks him back in the face. “It’s a joke, dick.”

That last word goes right to Jared’s head and he realizes that while he was getting laid every day for the last two months, it’s been since Monday and he really does miss Jensen. In his knee-jerk, ‘don’t be too serious’ way, he smirks. “Speaking of dick, can I come over tonight?”

“You gonna stay the night?”

“It depends. You couldn’t have lost your touch in five days, right?”

Jensen smacks him again, but then latches on to his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. After a few seconds, he leans away. “This okay?”

Jared squints and his hand goes up to Jensen’s head in the same way. “Yeah, it’s good.”

They kiss a bit more until Jared’s phone is going off again for texts and he’s sure it’s Chad checking in or demanding he come to the field. And it’s basically a combination of the two. _You gaybags gonna do this all day or do you feel like joining the rest of us assholes and play?_

Jared laughs and looks at Jensen. “I’m being paged.”

“Yeah, alright.” Jensen scratches the back of his head. “I’d stick around, but last time I did …”

He chuckles, but is fairly disappointed. He’d like it to be okay, but he might be too frazzled and unfocused. “Yeah, no, I know.” Jared’s phone sounds off again and he finds the text _Let’s go asshole_. 

“I’ll just get you at the bar.”

“Yeah?” Jared asks, a little surprised. 

Jensen waves a hand out. “Yeah. Totally. But only if you win.” He pushes his hand at Jared, enough that he moves back, but then Jensen grabs onto his shirt to bring him back for a quick kiss.

And they do win. Quite easily in fact. It’s not that Jared’s back to his energetic, crazy, phenomenal play. He’s just a little calmer on the field and he’s not making dumb mistakes that rub off on everyone else. So everyone is fielding normal and the hitting is solid, nothing out of control, but enough to get a few runs on the board and keep the Masterbatters to a lone run.

At Kenny’s, it’s easy going and everyone is talking and doing just fine. Like they were never pissed at Jared for three weeks. Like they never wanted to strangle the guy. Or like Chad never gave him a lecture in front of everyone about how his love life was fucking up the whole team. Jared realizes this is where he got that in his life – to just ignore everything then take it back after it’s blown over. And it worked with these guys, but Jensen is more to him and it doesn’t work there. So he knows he has stuff to work on because he doesn’t want it to be this way with Jensen. He wants it to work like it did for the entire month of July, where there were no problems and no hissy fits and Jared had nothing to even think about. 

And that thought takes him through the first few beers he’s handed while he’s waiting on Jensen. During his third beer it really hits him that they’re playing Going Deep next week for the Championship, that Jensen’s on that team, that he has to play Jensen. 

“Hey, Sally,” Chad interrupts his thoughts. “Get us a few more pitchers.”

“Dude. I’m not your waiter.”

“You owe us,” he replies, staring Jared down. 

And he knows he means for how things have been the last few weeks and he wants to mouth off. But he decides to just take it and get the refills. It’s while he’s at the bar that he finally spots Jensen, leaving the bathroom and heading to the far back corner where all of Going Deep is, drinking and laughing and having a ball. He texts Jensen while he waits for the refills. _At the bar. What’s the plan for tonight?_

Jared watches Jensen check his phone while nodding to whatever Mike is saying, and then he’s laughing heartily, head tipping back then falling forward and staying there while he’s shaking with the humor. The phone is still in his hand, but he’s not using it to return anything to Jared. Instead, he’s returning words to Mike and they’re still laughing and Jared has no idea what’s going on and he’s kind of freaking out. Where he would usually go back to his seat and sulk, he stops himself and thinks about how this should really go. He should just freaking go over there. He knows. Because texting Jensen when he can actually see him is pretty pathetic. And he knows this. God, all the things Jared knows about himself but doesn’t really do - or not do, more importantly - could fill so many books to stack in the two-bedroom apartment he shares with Chad.

So he just steels himself and allows time for Jensen to reply. Time to bring pitchers back to the table and time to just relax. But that time slips quickly and when he cranes his head to the corner, Jensen is still laughing with Mike and Aldis and Aaron and it’s still bugging the crap out of Jared. He can see Jeff looking in the corner, too, like he’s wondering what Jared is so interested in. He taps Jared’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Jared shakes his head and sips his beer. “Nothing.”

Jeff looks back again and spots Jensen there. “I thought everything was okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he waves off. 

“Jay?”

He pushes a hand out again. “Just let it go.” His brother is eyeing him and hard, not letting him let this go. Jared takes another sip of his beer, a long one this time, and stands up. “Alright, fine. I’m being an adult. Shit.” 

It takes some slow steps and careful breathing, but Jared finally makes it back there and is surprised that the whole table doesn’t go quiet. Just a few of them do and Aaron laughs. “How’s the ankle, sweetheart?”

Jared smirks as best he can and stands closest to Jensen’s chair, because he still isn’t comfortable in enemy territory. He’d never liked Aaron for all the time he’d known him. Even back when he was with Tom, because the guy was smug as hell and always gave him shit (okay, yeah, Chad is, too, but at least he has some loyalties and is actually fun). 

A few others look his way and he hears Jensen call out, “Hey, there you are!”

Jared sees how big his smile is and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen him grin that largely outside of them being alone, so it’s a little alarming. 

“C’mon!” Jensen encourages, nudging Mike to slide a seat down so there’s one empty between them. “Sit down, have a beer.”

Jared glances at Jensen then across the table with furrowed eyebrows and shallow breathing. They pretty much have the same face Jared thinks he’s showing: confused but absolutely unhappy with the idea. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m gonna go back there, but let me know when you’re ready.”

“Jensen?” Tom asks with an amused voice. “You didn’t tell us this was the kid!”

The word ‘kid’ goes right to Jared’s stomach, especially it being Tom’s voice, and he wants to just run away. But no, he’s going to deal with this as rationally as possible. 

“Yeah,” Jensen smiles, grabbing onto Jared’s hand. “This’s my guy.”

“Huh. That’s pretty interesting,” Tom replies.

“I know, right?” Jensen laughs. “I guess I have you to thank for that, huh?”

Jared swallows because this is _not_ how he saw this going. And because it’s now that he realizes that Jensen’s pretty drunk and he really has no idea where else it will go.

Tom tips his head to the side and then looks to Jared. “Jare, interesting. Still trying to fuck the league?”

“You still trying to fuck Aaron’s mom?” And there is Chad, his loyal companion and brother in battle. He pats Jared on the back for support.

The way Jared and Chad smirk together and Tom’s face goes white is enough for Jensen, who is laughing again, nearly in giggles. 

“Ohh, right,” Chad goes on. “I’d almost forgotten about that New Year’s Party. Shit, man, you really take the cake.”

Jensen turns in his chair, slapping a hand at Chad’s chest. “Dude, you’re a dick, but you’re good.”

Jared tugs on Jensen’s other hand. “I’m hungry, you?”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he replies easily and leaves the table without another word to his team. 

Chad leans forward with a hand on his chest and the kindest face Jared’s ever seen him use, like he’s actually trying to be nice. “We’ll see you bitches next week?” He pauses for a moment then smiles wider. “Sounds good. See ya!” and he holds his middle finger behind his head as they walk away.

They settle back at the Gamecocks table and everyone’s watching. Jeff looks especially concerned. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jared says as easily as possible. He hopes it can just be forgotten and no one will give him a hard time about it. He directs Jensen to a seat and sits next to him

It’s Chad who laughs and smacks Jared on the back a few times. “Jared told those dicks off. It’s good.”

Jared eyes his friend, who nearly winks, and sits back down.

“Oh, also,” Chad starts, spreading his hands out for attention. “Jensen’s drunk, so let’s get this bitch going.”

Indeed they do, because in addition to the three beers and three shots he had with Going Deep, Chad insists on three more shots and countless more beers. It’s Jared driving Jensen’s car back to his apartment and dealing with a rambly, lazy, and pliant Jensen, who melds himself into the passenger seat like he’s hiding down low. And it takes a bit of effort to get Jensen into his building and up two flights of stairs before they even reach the apartment.

Once inside, Jensen’s walking backwards and pulling Jared’s tee with him. “I had never before seen the advantage to having a Chad in my life. But I absolutely do now. His humor is exceptional and irreplaceable. I perhaps need a Chad of my own.”

Jared laughs. Jensen’s vocabulary expanded exponentially after the second shot of tequila. It was entertaining as hell. “How are you even talking anymore?”

“I really don’t know,” he shakes his head with a wry smile. “Why are we still walking? How are we not in bed yet?”

He laughs again and moves forward with his arms around Jensen’s waist to keep him upright as they turn into the bedroom. Jared lets him down on the bed so he can work on getting his shoes off to at least lie down. Jared’s pretty sure that they’re not going to do anything with Jensen this drunk, so he’s really just planning on getting him into bed, maybe some water into his system, and then sleep. 

“Is there any possibility that we take ourselves out of the game next week? We can spectate from the stands and watch everything go to hell. Because it’s going to be anything but pretty, you know that, right?”

For all that he’s saying, his voice is still light and jokey and Jared just smiles after he has both shoes off. He sits back on his feet and looks up. “Seriously? I have never seen you this drunk.”

Jensen taps a finger at Jared’s nose. “This is exactly why I come home first and waste the time I could be drinking. It is quite possible that I do not handle my liquor all that well.”

Jared grabs Jensen’s finger so he stops touching his face. “Or at all.”

He leans forward with his forehead to Jared’s. They both go a little dizzy crossing their eyes to watch each other. “Hi, Jared.”

Jared holds onto Jensen’s neck and moves him far enough away that he doesn’t cross his eyes anymore. “Hi, Jensen.”

“I love you.”

“Yes, I know.”

Jensen leans in again and kisses him, pushing his mouth open with a sloppy tongue. It goes on for a little while, because Jared’s glad to be kissing Jensen, but he stops it when it’s really just too much spit and not much action. Jensen is a shitty drunk kisser, he’s realizing. And he wonders how they ever managed to get anything done that first night they met. But he recalls how drunk he was and it’s likely they both sucked at everything in the back seat of the Impala and just didn’t know it. He chuckles to himself on that thought and Jensen pulls back. 

“You good?” he mumbles while his eyelids start to drop. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. How’re you?”

“I’m doing great,” he smiles. Jensen leans back a bit more on the bed and without any notice he shoves his shorts and boxers down to his knees and nods to Jared. His head pretty much just bobbles on his neck like he has no control of it. 

He just laughs and brushes a hand over Jensen’s head, as if that could clear it for him. “Jen, I think you’re a little too gone for this now.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he insists, but his words are slow. “C’mon,” he insists with a failed wink. At least it looks like he's winking.

Jared stands so he can move Jensen on the bed and initiate some sort of sleep, but Jensen totally misreads it. He reaches for Jared’s waistband and it’s like he suddenly has all his capabilities back because his hand slips into Jared’s underwear and is groping Jared. “Jensen, no,” he reprimands and yanks his hands out. 

“What? I thought?”

“Just!” Then he sighs and grunts, because as much as he’d love to have Jensen, he doesn’t really want it now, like this. “Stay here! Okay? I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever, man.” 

When Jared returns with a tall glass of water, Jensen is naked and laid out on the bed like he’s just waiting for Jared to return and start seducing him. He shakes his head instead and sits next to him, back against the headboard. “Sit up for a second?” 

Jared gets Jensen to suck down about half the glass before he’ll actually reply to anything. Jensen asks carefully, "Thought you wanted to come over tonight?”

“I did. I’m here.”

“You don’t want to suck my dick?”

He chuckles. “Not like this, Jen. No.”

“I can’t suck yours?”

“Dude, drink.”

And he does, as if that is the key to getting some action.

Jared starts stroking his fingers through Jensen’s hair. He can tell the breathing is slowing and his voice has been getting quieter over the last few minutes, so he hopes this motion will soothe him even closer to sleep. 

Jensen shakes the empty glass. “What about now?”

“Congratulations. You get more water.”

Jensen tries to sit up but fails. He does nail the outraged face and tone. “What? That’s the worst prize ever.”

Jared doesn’t answer; he goes to refill the glass and returns to his spot again, making Jensen drink more water. 

“What if I finish this glass?”

“You’ll probably piss on me, so the bathroom is next.”

Jensen shifts, kicking one of his legs out. He’s closer to Jared, but isn’t really trying anything anymore. “Shit. Yeah, that’s a possibility.”

They lay quietly, Jensen still sipping water and Jared still rubbing Jensen’s head. Jared thinks about how weird this is right here. How he's normally the one drinking too much and insisting on sex and never turning Jensen down for anything. But he just doesn’t think it’s right, right here and now, and he’s tired himself and would rather just call it a night and sleep next to Jensen. So he’s really just waiting for Jensen to pass out so he can. But it’s not happening. The guy is just sipping down water and staring across the room without a word. 

He does finally nudge Jared and grunt, “Piss,” when the water starts to hit him. 

Jared moves to let him off the bed. While Jensen is gone, he takes off his own dusty shirt, shoes, and socks. He lays back with his arms bent behind his head and still sitting up against the headboard, but a little more reclined. Jensen stumbles back in and crawls over him to reoccupy his side. He sidles up against Jared. Instead of making any sort of advance though, he just rests his head at Jared’s shoulder and an arm across his chest. Jared’s hand settles over Jensen’s arm. “You okay?”

“I’m fucking drunk,” he grumbles, with his voice going gravelly and tired. 

“Been trying to tell you that.”

Jensen breathes out loudly and closes his eyes. He keeps talking, but his voice is quiet and steady. “It’s cool you came to get me at the table. I saw your text but Mike was saying something funny, so I wanted to hear the rest. He ain’t too bad a guy, ya know?”

Jared thinks back to how well he and Mike got along when he lived with Tom. And even after, he tried talking to Jared about how everything fell down and didn’t play favorites with the situation. But Jared still lumped him with the assholes on Going Deep because they were friends and he knew Mike would never abandon Tom. No matter how shitty he was to Jared. “Yeah. He’s alright,” Jared allows. 

“But it’s cool, because you stood up to them by coming over. Tom’s not that bad a guy. Not that _great_ a guy, but if I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t know anything. Ya know? He never said anything about you.”

Jared sighs, not even knowing what to say. It’s not comfortable talking about his ex with his current. 

“And I wouldn’t have seen you with him. Not like you have a type, but I don’t know. He’s definitely not it. Not that I am either. But I just can’t picture you with anyone else.”

And then he’s smirking because while it’s entirely too uncomfortable, it’s entertaining to hear Jensen’s stream of consciousness, even if it's about his ex-boyfriend. Especially when his current is like 10 times hotter and better a boyfriend than anyone he’s ever dated. And this whole conversation only confirms that for Jared. His arms pull Jensen in closer to silently tell him that.

“I don’t mind that Chad told them off and not you. In fact, I think it’s better you didn’t. You’re still the good guy.”

Jared slides further down in the bed so they’re both flat on the mattress and he’s more comfortable to be in this position to sleep. His arms hold Jensen against him and he kisses his forehead, keeping his mouth there as he talks lowly. “I love you, you know that?”

Jensen’s voice is even lower with the night wearing him down. “Yeah, you’ve said it once or twice.”

“This is some of the strangest stuff you’ve ever said. But it’s awesome.”

“Because I’m awesome,” Jensen mumbles back. Jared already knew that.


	4. Chapter 4

Thursday, at their final little team gathering at the store, Chad holds everyone’s attention by being quite serious as he stands before them all. He’s holding a bat in one hand and striking it carefully into the other. He casually glances at the bench behind him, where his list of meeting notes is. “Alright. One. Tomorrow, Going Deep. It’s a big game, fellas. We only lost by one run last time. So it’s ours to take and make them cry.”

“Chad?” Gabe asks.

He merely levels the bat at Gabe. “No.” Gabe frowns as Chad continues. “We beat them last year. They got us the year before. Patterns may tell you that they’re set to win. But I don’t give a shit about patterns!” Chad’s voice is getting louder and he finally just yells the last part. “And I am not leaving that field without a win!”

Everyone looks at him, not quite sure this is really Chad because the guy they know gets riled up and yells at people, but it doesn’t really ever make sense. So they look to each other and shrug or just frown with misunderstanding the whole thing. 

“Chad?” Jeff asks carefully.

He points the bat at him, much like with Gabe, and gives a steady, “No.” He looks around. “Anyone else?”

Jeff throws his hands out and looks annoyed. “Why don’t I get to ask a question?”

“Because you’ll just mock the speech.”

Jared raises a hand, “Can I ask a question?”

“Just did, Gaybird.”

Jared frowns. “Can I ask another?”

Chad eyes him sharply. “Uh, you just did again.”

He stares him down and crosses his arms. “May I ask a serious of questions until I get an answer I like?”

Chad nods slowly, like he’s considering it. He finally replies, “Yes, you may.”

Jared asks easily, “Is this really necessary? We could win or lose tomorrow and it’s not going to change anything.”

“You mean, like the fact that we hate all those douchebags and Jensen is still your best assfriend?”

He takes a deep breath of annoyance. “Yeah, exactly that.”

“Okay, about that,” Chad sighs and steps forward. He’s now in the center of the guys and not so much at the head of the group. “You know that we’re not going to lie down just so your boyfriend can win.”

Jared shrugs. “I really don’t plan to either.”

Chad stands up straight and looks a little surprised. “Really?”

Jared is suddenly confused at Chad being surprised. “Yeah, really.”

“Oh,” Chad says thoughtfully. “Well, I guess we can move onto point three then.”

“What’s point two?” Gabe asks.

“Obviously nothing if we’re skipping it.”

“What is it?” Dwayne asks.

Gabe snatches Chad’s list of notes from the bench and fakes a punch when Chad tries to take it back. Chad stands away, not looking at anyone as Gabe reads dumbly, “Tell Jared that we’re not lying down for his boyfriend to win.”

“Seriously?” Jared complains sharply. 

Gabe throws his hands up. “Hey, I just read it! Don’t hit me!”

Jared stares down Chad like he can’t believe he’s saying what he’s been saying. “You really had to have that as a point of discussion?”

Everyone is quiet and watching Jared and Chad face off. It lasts long enough to be uncomfortable. 

Jared stalks to Gabe and yanks the paper away. He re-reads it. “Two. Tell Jared we’re not lying down for his boyfriend to win. Three. In the event that we lose, Jared should thank us for the sex he’ll get. Four. Jared better not throw the game.” 

Jared’s mind reels and it sets off so much anger in his head. That anyone would even have to write it down, and then to repeat it in front of everyone. He’s pissed at Chad for assuming he would ask his friends to throw this game. It’s just as important to him as it is to anyone else, possibly more when you consider Tom and Mike and Aaron. He wants to kick their asses so badly – in softball and reality. Then to insist that he would try to throw it himself. It’s all too much for him to even try to work out. 

He crumbles the list into a ball and tosses it at Chad’s face. His voice comes out livid but slow and steady. “You are an asshole.” 

“C’mon,” Chad whines back. “It was a joke.”

“ _Still_ an asshole.” They’re staring and Jared’s breathing gets hard, which everyone knows means he’s good and pissed. “I wouldn’t have asked you to lay down. You didn’t have to either.” He looks to the guys. “Meeting’s over.”

He brushes Chad off when he tries to act like nothing’s really wrong and then tells him that they’ll be across the street waiting on him. Chad later texts that he’s still in the neighborhood if he needs a ride. Instead, Jared does the near-two-mile walk to the train at 10pm in the pouring rain so he can grab the El and transfer his way to Oak Park and Jensen’s. He ignores more texts messages saying things like _Cmon it was a joke_ and _Not that big a deal but you are still playing right?_

Sometime before midnight, Jensen’s surprised to see him at the door, let alone dripping water everywhere. Jared had said he would be getting late food and beers with the guys after their meeting. Instead, he’s there and pathetically states, “I don’t have an umbrella.”

He doesn’t mean to chuckle, but Jared is quite the sight. “With you or at all?”

“Does it really matter at this point?”

“No, I guess not.” Jensen leads Jared in and watches him toe off his shoes before sighing on his way to the bathroom. He watches him there, too, getting into the shower stall, stripping off his work uniform and dropping the soaked clothes in the tub. Jensen is still kind of amused by Jared and how pitiful he looks. He asks with a light voice as he hands Jared a towel, “How was work?”

“Work was fine,” Jared grumbles while drying himself off.

“What happened?”

He ties the towel at his waist and walks out of the room. His voice is still low and annoyed. “Chad’s a dick, what else is new?”

Jensen follows to the bedroom and finds Jared face down on the bed. He settles next to him, resting his head on crossed arms and watching Jared. “What’d he do?”

Jared takes a deep breath and shifts his head so Jensen can hear him clearly, but he keeps his eyes closed. “He felt the need to make a list of rules concerning tomorrow’s game. Like, they won’t lose just so you win. But if we lose, I should thank them for making you happy.”

He quirks his lips a little and the smile is evident in his voice. “Well, those aren’t so bad. You know, _I’d_ thank you if we win.” Jared looks at him and Jensen can tell it’s not a good thing. “In our own way of course.”

“Jensen,” he warns.

“Maybe not a thank you. But like a consolation prize?”

“Jensen.”

Jensen slides to his side and settles his palm at Jared’s lower back. “And depending on how well you actually play?” His hand slips down over the towel covering Jared’s ass. “The prize might be big.” And his fingers squeeze between the cheeks. 

Jared flinches for a second before he pushes Jensen to his back and roughly lands on top of him. “I don’t find this very funny,” he grits out while holding Jensen’s shoulders to the bed.

He watches Jared and waits for him to say or do something more. But he doesn’t, so Jensen says, “Is this you screwing around and being fake pissed? Because it’s kind of turning me on. But I’m afraid you’ll be really angry if you’re actually seriously pissed about this.”

Jared winds up showing Jensen that he was seriously pissed, but also wanted to screw around. Which lightens his mood a bit, but he’s still brooding plenty when they’re huffing their way through the end of sex. He’s taking Jensen from behind and pushing in rough, anchoring Jensen’s hips with tight hands. He then grabs Jensen’s shoulders and uses that leverage to pull him tighter and closer. One of his hands goes to Jensen’s dick and sweeps up and down, using precome to slick his hand and keep it moving quickly. Which gets Jensen going and he’s panting and pushing back on Jared, trying to make it all count. Jensen comes with a seemingly painful shout, but Jared knows by now that it’s all pleasure with stars behind his eyes and pricks everywhere under his skin. With the muscles pulsing around his dick, Jared stutters his movements and grabs back onto Jensen’s shoulders with both hands and pounds into him, finally breaking loose with a grunted, “Ah, shit.”

He lands heavy on Jensen and after he pulls out, Jensen rolls them to their sides and they’re spooning. Jared’s arms wrap around Jensen’s neck and hold him tight to his chest, even slips his leg between Jensen’s. He kisses at Jensen’s ear, but doesn’t say anything fun or witty, like he normally does. Jensen knows he’s still pissed and that the rough sex was just an extension of it all. So he lets Jared stew as long as he stays there and keeps holding him, because he loves the fact that, despite early protests, Jared is the biggest fucking cuddler in the world. 

Sometime later, Jensen attempts to move, but it’s impossible within Jared’s grip. He asks gently, “Can I get up?”

“For what?” Jared asks at the back of his head. He still sounds mad.

“I was going to shower. It’s getting sticky.”

Jared releases his top arm but winds up just nudging Jensen to his back so he can look down on him. “Nothing’s going to change tomorrow, right?”

“No,” Jensen replies oddly. Then he adds, “Aside from one of us being on a winning team, no.”

Jared rolls his eyes and tries again. “Nothing’s going to change, _right_?”

His hand goes up to Jared’s face, pushing his still-damp hair away. He’s got a bit of smile there. “I don’t care what happens. You’re the one who does.”

Jared’s eyes fall further down Jensen’s face because he knows he’s the one who is having the hard time and it’s up to him to make sure nothing is different after the game. He looks back to Jensen and lets out a long breath. “Can you do me a favor?”

“I’m not going to throw the game,” he smirks, sensing that Jared isn’t so much pissed anymore, but just bothered in general. It’s an improvement. 

To his credit, Jared does a good job pretending it wasn’t said and continues on with his thought. “You won’t let me get away with being a baby about it? I actually don’t know how I’m going to respond if we lose, but it’ll be worse if this gets fucked up again.”

Jensen’s smile is now soft but it’s real and not going anywhere. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. It’s like you’re a whole new person.”

Jared fights to roll his eyes. “I’m trying here.”

“I know,” Jensen answers, the first serious words from his mouth since Jared came into his apartment. “You’re doing a good job.”

Jared spends the night, showers, and has Jensen drive him to his apartment in the morning to get changes of clothes for work and the game. It’s pretty early when they do it, early enough that Jensen can still get to work on time, so Jared’s quiet in the apartment to not clue Chad into him being there. He’s ignored all his calls and texts, Jeff’s and Gabe’s, too. Just to get back at them, he’d decided to reply when he got up in the morning. At 5:30am. _I’ll be at the game. Stop crying._

He’s at the store way too early for any real work, so he hangs out in the office and wastes time on his phone’s internet program. Around 8:30, he tours the store to make sure everything’s in place, and when he finds a softball box bent out of shape, he shrugs and decides to claim it as bad merchandise. He rips the box open and flips the ball into the air as he walks down the aisles, catching and tossing it right back up. He hears Scott, his trusty weights and cardio expert, entering through the back and he calls out, “Head’s up!” With a quick, smooth stroke, he launches the ball high and across the store. It’s apparent that Scott doesn’t catch it when a few items crash to the ground and there's swearing. Jared just laughs. The first time since before yesterday’s meeting. 

Sandy yelling breaks him from smiling. “Jerk! You almost hit me!” 

He jogs back towards where the ball went. “Did I really? I’m so sorry!”

When he rounds a corner, she socks him in the gut with a tiny, tight fist. 

He stumbles back. “What the hell?!”

She’s laughing and tosses the softball at his forehead. “Gotcha.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“You’re an asshole. We’re even.”

His hand grabs the top of her head and pushes her away. “Get outta here.”

“What’re you doing here so early?” Scott asks while flipping the remaining lights on. He’s eyeing Jared because, while never being late to open the store, he's never been there before them. 

Jared bounces the softball on the ground while he follows Scott into the break room. “Jensen dropped me off before work.”

Sandy pushes at his back and gets a giant smile on her face. “When do we get to meet Jensen?”

He mocks her excited voice. “You don’t.”

She frowns. “You suck.”

Jared lands into one of the metal chairs at the table. “That’s why he loves me.”

She sits down across from Scott and rests her chin on her hands while batting her eyelashes. “They’re in love. Big, fat gay love.”

He kicks at her chair. “You want next Saturday off or what?”

“Coffee, huh?” Scott asks when he’s up and notices the machine is already brewing instead of waiting for him to start it up. “I’m impressed.”

“What can I say? I’m awesome and bored.”

“You ready for the big game?”

And that’s the question of the day. It flips through his brain as he tries to reason how it’s going to go and what will happen in the end. He wonders if the Gamecocks will win and how. Easily, at the last minute, on errors? What if it’s the other way and he gets way too far inside his head again and makes enough mistakes to give away the game? What if he hits the ball hard again and Jensen, with that unthinkable speed and remarkable timing, grabs the thing out of the air again? All possible scenarios fly through him, and all the possible afters. How he’ll face Jensen. If Jensen will stay with his team to celebrate, or commiserate. If the Gamecocks lose and the guys don’t even want to go to the bar. If Jared makes the mistakes that lose the game and he just wants to go home and stew and being a huge ass baby about it all. 

He at least stops himself there because he’s been telling himself to do the exact opposite of that and he asked Jensen to make sure he doesn’t. He just hopes Jensen keeps his word. 

*

Just before five, Jensen finds Jared at the customer service counter flipping through a binder of next week’s sales information. He’s startled, that’s for sure, but he smiles when Jensen mentions that he was coming by for a quick dinner and to give a ride to the park, figuring "it's the least I could do for the blessed evening." Which makes Jared laugh and he’s feeling pretty good, all things considered. 

They have an easy dinner at a local burger joint and everything is relaxed and fun. But when Jensen’s car drives through the parking lot next to the fields, Jared starts getting nervous. Jensen can sense it and reaches to pull Jared against him. They’re early enough that he insists they just sit for a bit in the easy sounds of the radio and nothing else. Jared sets his head at Jensen’s shoulder and again feels so small in Jensen’s embrace, but he likes it and won’t move. 

In his head, Jared is saying all kinds of mushy things, like how he loves Jensen and he appreciates he’s in his life. That he’s looking forward to waking up tomorrow and knowing that the season’s over and they can go back to just being together. That he can’t wait to see what happens in this ‘being together’ time. And the way that Jensen’s head rests against his and his hand holds Jared’s shoulder, he feels like Jensen would say so many of the same things. But in his own cool, calm way that would make Jared want to say something sarcastic or flippant in return, but inside he’d be loving it. 

He realizes that he doesn’t want to play this game. He just wants to sit in this moment and will themselves back to Jensen’s place so they can do anything other than face each other and work their hardest to beat the other guy. But he knows it doesn’t work that way. They have to do this. So he takes a deep, deep breath and holds it to steady himself. He releases it and says quietly, “I think I’m okay now.”

Jensen’s hand goes to Jared’s head, squeezing and moving him far enough away that he can kiss his temple. “Good deal.”

Jared stares at him and takes in how easy and clear the green eyes are. He really wonders how in the world Jensen can be this composed about it. But he knows it’s because he doesn’t care – at least not as much as Jared does. And he realizes he cares so much because he doesn’t want to let his friends down and have them think he has a motive to it. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they lose and he didn’t perform the best he could. He fears his team will crucify him, thinking he did it on purpose.

Jensen’s words break his thoughts and surprisingly eases him. “Don’t you dare throw away plays, alright?”

Jared quirks his mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Will you at least let a homer through this time?”

“Not a chance.”

They each keep their word, because in the top of the second with two outs and Aaron at second and the game stuck at double zero, Jensen pegs a line drive at Jared, who’d been playing a little too far left, he’ll admit. Just for that, it’s to his right, and he feels tingles break out across his ankle when he takes a quick jump to follow its path. While trying to ignore the pain, he thanks the length of his arms and fingers because he gets just enough flesh on the softball to stop it. It drops quickly and he scoops it back up, firing so sharp at Chad. And maybe it’s not just to make sure he beats Jensen’s lightning speed, but also to bean Chad as hard as possible. He does both and he’s smiling. His mouth breaks wider open when he sees Jensen shaking his head and laughing at himself a little angry. Like he’s mad that ball was stopped, but he’s amused it was Jared.

Jared’s jogging easily to the dugout when his brother slaps at his back. “Nice stop, kiddo.”

He just nods and gets to the bench. He drinks from his water bottle and watches the batters, knowing if they get a few guys on base, he’ll be up again. That’s how Jared gets through the initial time warming up and the first few innings. He focuses on what he has to do next and doesn’t waste time watching what everyone else is doing. Whether Chad is acting strange because they’re still not exactly talking – Jared hasn’t said much to anyone that wasn’t initiated; he hasn’t tried to start any conversation like he usually does, he’s just been answering whatever’s asked of him. He’s not bothering himself with how Gabe keeps looking at him when they’re on the field, like he has to make sure it’s really Jared there since he’s so contained but still playing fine – he’s not perfect, but it’s sharp and mechanical when he moves around the dirt to collect ground balls and he fires the ball as hard as he can at Chad. For the same reason he did Jensen’s line drive. 

So at the moment, he’s focusing on how John is trying to get a ball down on the ground and between Tom at first and Aaron at second. He doesn’t. Then it’s Cliff. He tries to fire a pitch into left field. Jared leans forward to watch it, wondering if Jensen’s going to get it, but then he laughs to himself. _Of course he will, the fucker._ And he does. Jeff steps up and he’s doing his best to pick a spot in the field where someone in blue isn’t, but Jared knows how it looks. It all blurs together and there are no empty spaces. It’s a long blue wall and they’re picking up everything off the ground, snatching every fly ball. But Jared’s not complaining because the Gamecocks are doing much the same. So it’s a good, tight game. And a brand new inning after Jeff pops out to short center and swings his bat at the ground with a healthy, “Damnit!”

Jared plays through the top of the third, watching Gabe field the first grounder, Jeff take care of a high pop-up, and Brian wait for a fly ball to return to earth and into his hands. The game’s going so quickly this way, with each team going three up and three down through to the fifth. Jared’s back up again and he thankfully has a runner in Gabe at first after he slapped a ball down between Tom and Aaron and his tiny legs carried him so quickly to first. Jared sweeps the bat at his ankles, like a hundred times before, and watches the baselines. Tom’s off first a bit, but Jared’s not sure he can sneak something in there. Aldis is covering third and giving a decent amount of space. Jared watches Mike’s pitch come in high and he doesn’t like it, lets it float by him for a ball. He sets back in the box and swings a few times, finally spotting his opening with Jensen playing due center in left field. He’s going for it.

The ball arcs in while it spins over itself, thanks to Mike’s loft. Jared swings early with all his might, pulling the ball left and even with third base. The spin on the ball keeps it in the air long enough to pass the base and stay fair before it hits the ground and rolls off. But Jared barely knows it because he’s tearing off to first without a glance. He speeds around the corner and sees Jensen racing in to grab the ball from the foul grass. For just one split second something tells him to stop, but he sees that Gabe already heading home and that Jensen pauses long enough to gage if he can get Gabe out. Instead, Jensen’s throwing to second and Jared’s sliding, left foot forward, cleat into the bag just as the ball makes it to Steve’s hands. Jared pops up, right foot on the middle of the base and he’s smiling enough to show he’s happy, but not so much to gloat.

He hears the guys on the bench cheering because it’s the first run for either team and it’s good. They’re not going to take it for granted, but it lets them breathe for just a second because they finally scored, so it’s not an impossible dream. Jared smiles a bit to his team, not just in sharing the happiness of a run, but also in the pride of getting the RBI to make this moment happen. He turns back to left field and sees Jensen inhale sharply then clap hard as he turns around to head back to his position. He’s got his hands on his hips and his head down until he gets to a good spot in the grass and turns back towards the diamond. Jared glances back a few times, hands on his own hips, and gives a smirk as if to say _Nice try. You were close but I was closer._

Jensen lifts his hat to wipe at his forehead. It’s not entirely that hot and Jensen hasn’t been running around all too much, so Jared takes it as a tip of the hat then looks back to Dwayne, who’s up to bat. Three pitches later, Dwayne’s spiking a ball into short left, but Jensen’s wheeling it again while Jared’s sprinting to third, praying Jensen can’t get to it. The guy’s speed is remarkable and the timing is just as good because he’s diving forward and stopping the ball from hitting the ground. It pops out of his palms and as it comes back down and Jensen’s skidding on the grass, his left hand reaches out and grips the life out of it for the final out of the inning. 

“Shit,” Jared complains with a tiny bit of wonder in his voice as he heads over to shortstop to start the next inning. 

Jensen’s running towards the dugout and gives a smug smile back at Jared. He says quietly as they pass, “Saw you gloating.”

Jared just laughs and his mouth is wide in a smile for the first time since he’s been on the field. He kicks at the dirt in his area, wanting to make a mess before he finds the spot he’ll occupy. His right cleat swipes a line and he steps up to it. He pulls at the cloth of his shorts and bends to his typical fielding position, waiting for any balls to head his way. The only thing he gets here, in the bottom of the fifth, is Mike’s grounder to his left. He grabs it off the dirt and easily flips it to Gabe, who’s tagging second to get Aldis out then tossing it to first to get Mike. 

Each team continues on. Allowing one or two baserunners, but locking down on the field and not letting anything to get home. The Gamecocks keep their 1-0 lead to the bottom of the final and seventh inning, and they’re buzzing on the field. Jared can feel his fingers twitching of their own command and there’s a sharp tingle rushing down his neck and halfway down his back. He wants this game to be done in three outs so badly. To win and take with him the glory of having the only RBI, to say he drove that one and only, game-winning run in? It would be the best thing all season and he’d take it with him into the fall and winter, knowing it’s all his. That he did this.

After Steve grounds out to Gabe, Aldis is up, all long and lean like Jared, and a threat for the longball. He takes two pitches before firing a shot out to left. The momentum on the ball lets up just enough to drop down in front of Brian before he can grab it. But he was speeding his way in and grabs it off one bounce and gets it into Jared before Aldis can even think about trying for second. Jared claps his hand against the ball in his other hand, and for once it’s not in anger. It’s more to settle his nerves because Aldis is on first with Tom up, Mike, and then Aaron. It’s the heart of their lineup and it’s feeling a little rough inside Jared’s stomach.

Jeff tosses some sharp pitches over to Tom, who’s taking his time and making Jeff give him something he can play with. It takes a full count for Tom to finally swing his hit perfectly between Jared and Gabe, who’s watching second for the incoming runner. Jared runs back towards the edge of the grass to stop it and the ball bounces twice before Jared can get his fingers on it. He flinches to second, but Aldis’s long legs took him there in seconds flat. Jared throws quickly but smartly to Chad to get Tom out just one step before he reaches the bag. He knows it was close and even one half-second to think more about throwing to second and they’d have two runners with just one out. But now they’re one out away from the end. 

Chad, ball in hand, points at Jared and yells, “Yeah, you do this!”

Jared feels something swell in his chest and he breathes deep to try to settle it. They’re just _one out_ away and he’s making it happen. He drove Gabe in the fifth, and now two innings later, he’s making perfect plays on the field to end it. Just a handful of pitches and they’re good.

Mike steps up, all determination, and takes the batter’s box like it’s his to own, legs stretched far. There’s a ball and a strike to the count before Mike connects with the ball, sending it along the third baseline. Dwayne moves so fast after it. It gets past him, but thankfully is foul. Dwayne’s still cursing himself because if only he could’ve stopped it, it’d be the third out and the game would be over. But Mike’s got himself a reprieve and he looks like his sole purpose now is to take advantage of it.

The next pitch is high and Jared’s sure he’s not going to take it, but he swings quick and hard and the ball is soaring just over Jared, just inches above his long reach of fingers off his high jump. It bounces and rolls into left, Brian charging at it and then throwing it into Jared for the cutoff. Jared can hear Aldis stomping his way around third as he gets the ball in his hands, and it’s not even a full second for Jared to turn and fire it home. His throw isn’t perfect, but it’s real damned close to John’s position and he grabs it from the air, applying the tag to Aldis. Jared’s ready to cheer, he’s hopping up but he lands with a hard thud when the ump calls it safe. 

Going Deep erupts into tremendous noise at the run but all the Gamecocks in the infield, are heading in towards the ump, shouting and cursing for the bad call. Jared knows it was close, but he was so sure they edged it out. The ump won’t hear it, he’s just yelling at everyone to get back into position and get back to the game. Jared’s swearing to himself and pulling his hat off his head. He’s so close to firing it into the dirt, but he holds it together and knows that he can’t get too anxious because in all the fuss, Mike, who should’ve just been at first, got himself to second when the fielders tried to celebrate instead of watch what he was doing.

Jared knows they need to get back to playing and just finish this next batter. Take care of Aaron, and they can go extra innings, take back the lead and then it’s over. They’ve got it. Just get the ball to first and it’s theirs to take back. But he doesn’t have much time to think of how this is ready to be put in for the night because Aaron’s hitting Jeff’s first pitch and it’s a hard drive to Gabe, who fumbles with watching Mike take steps to third before firing to first and Aaron beats the throw. 

He wants to curse again, because what should’ve been over two batters ago is now in danger with runners at the corners and two outs. Chris steps up to the plate and he looks just as determined as Mike was, face set like stone and body solid and still. He doesn’t waste time either and slaps a ball right back at Jeff. He tries to stop the ball, but it zips past him and Jared runs forward, scooping it up. He’s running in and throwing hard to John to get Mike out, to stop the winning run. The throw is aimed perfectly low so John can grab and just swipe at Mike’s leg, but it’s another close one as the guy slides into the plate and John moves his hands over and even from where Jared is, he can see it doesn’t make it and the run counts and the game’s over. Going Deep goes crazy and they’re storming Mike at home.

Jared drops to his knees, hands going to his head with his arms winged out to the air. His mouth is dropped open like he doesn’t believe it, but he sees Going Deep jumping all around Mike and soon enough they’re mostly piling on top of the guy while John scoots away from the group and kicks the dirt.

From the corners of his eyes, he can see Chad kick first base hard enough to unearth it. Gabe’s squatting low, holding his head and staring at the ground. Dwayne’s wiping an angry hand to the ground before walking back to their dugout. Jared falls forward, his forehead to the dirt. He covers his head, closes his eyes, doesn’t let any light into his mind. They just lost. _Fucking lost_ and he can feel tears burning beneath his eyelids. And he can’t take it. He hears Going Deep still celebrating, and the pounding of his heartbeat is starting to rival the noise level. But it slows down as he feels a hand at his back, patting before it tries to soothe. When he sits back he sees Jeff, who crouches down and hugs him, tears in his eyes, too. “You did good, Jay.”

Jared doesn’t do much for Jeff’s embrace, but he does tuck his head against his neck, eyes hidden. “I fucking missed it,” Jared mumbles.

“My fault. It’s mine.”

Jared sighs and he kind of knows it is. His brother was never great at fielding line drives to his ankles. But Jared usually saved him from that. Always had as kids, through high school, and in this league. But this time he couldn’t and it cost them the game. 

Jeff offers to help Jared up, but his legs are still shaky with emotion so he just crouches low to the ground. Jared settles elbows at his knees and holds his head down again thinking about how positively he’d felt just three batters ago. He’d gotten the only run in. He made an awesome throw to Chad to get Tom out. But it was his throw – a split second too late – that cost the game. The tears sting just as much as that notion. 

Another hand is at his back, stroking down then down again. It stops at the small of his back and he hears the gravelly voice. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Fuck,” he whines, the tears evident on his voice.

Jensen crouches beside him and his hand slides over Jared’s shoulder, this thumb and fingers pressing hard near his collarbone. “You were amazing.”

Jared shrugs, an elbow going out to push Jensen away, but the hand clamps around the back of his neck. He takes a deep breath and stays quiet, his breathing being his only noise.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Jared still won’t speak. Jensen adds forcefully, “You told me to not let you check out.”

Jared breathes heavily and finally picks up his head. He and Jensen are the only ones left on the diamond. His team is collecting their things in the dugout and Going Deep is bustling around theirs. He wants to tell Jensen to go celebrate with his team. That he wants a few more minutes on his own, and that he’s not ready to deal with this yet. But his mouth can’t work the words out. He just looks at Jensen with wet eyes and a flat face. 

Jensen moves closer and removes his own hat. He’s keeping Jared with his gaze and the hand still around his neck; he’s not letting him go. “It’s okay.” 

Jared numbly nods. 

“You really were amazing. You stole my hit,” he adds with a tiny smirk.

The tense moment breaks and Jared gives an angry chuckle. “I wasn’t going to let you off the hook.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jared nods a little. “I just need some time.”

Jensen nods back and squeezes his hand once more. “You got it.”

He watches Jensen head back to his team, where he gives a few pats to guys’ backs as they talk and laugh and are smiling like giant idiots. Jared finally stands and slowly makes his way back to the Gamecocks. Jeff playfully grabs the back of his head and shakes it. “You did good, kiddo.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he sits at the bench and sulks a little bit more. The guys coast by him, patting his shoulder, giving a ‘good game,’ and basically commiserating over it while still giving Jared his due props. 

From behind, Jeff squeezes at his shoulders. “You coming out?” 

He sighs and spots Jensen still by his team. He wonders if Jensen is going to the bar to celebrate with Going Deep or if he’d be up to just hanging with him. Either way, Jared’s not even sure that he does want to go to the bar and share the same pathetic feeling they all have about the game. He does know he wants a beer or ten, so he nods while taking his cleats off. “I’ll get there eventually.”

Jeff squeezes again. “Sounds good.”

The guys make their way to the parking lot and Jared gets his flip flops on in relative peace. Going Deep is splitting off with a few guys heading to their cars and the others taking their time to get their things together. Jared’s alone on the bench for a minute or two and he just stares across the diamond, visualizing that last play and wondering where in the world he could recover just one second. 

Chad plops down next to him with a sigh. “Well, this fucking burns.”

“Tell me about it,” Jared grumbles back before his brain can even remember he was pissed at the guy.

“That blind ump wouldn’t know his asshole from the Grand Canyon.”

Jared chuckles.

Chad nudges him with an elbow. “You need a ride to the bar?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You going though?”

Jared looks over and sees how Chad seems unsure and edgy, like he doesn’t know what Jared will say and it worries him that it won’t be good. It makes Jared feel a little better about their whole flare up because this is how he knows Chad feels bad. The guy won’t ever apologize – Jared can’t remember the last time he did without sprinkling some vulgarities and attitude in, like someone was _forcing_ him to apologize – but this is pretty damned close. So Jared takes it and smiles a little. “Yeah. I’ll have Jensen drop me off.”

Chad steps over the bench and smacks the back of Jared’s head on his way. “You didn’t play too bad, Sally.”

Jared swings behind him, just nailing Chad in the back. “Thanks, dick.”

*

He doesn’t drink himself into oblivion like he’d been thinking of on the ride to the bar. He has enough to ease him up and laugh with the guys as they relive remarkable plays, errors, and hilarity from the whole summer. It’s nice and comfortable, especially when Jensen joins them and doesn’t leave the table except for refills or to piss. He joins in the humor and eventually they’re all sharing entertaining stories about random stuff in their lives that range from work to bad food to awesome drunken nights. 

Jared’s not exactly good when they leave the bar at closing, but he’s feeling better. And when he and Jensen mess around and have sex, it, too, feels nice and comfortable. He’s not miserable the next day, but he’s subdued and sluggish. So they spend most of the day lounging on the couch in a tee and boxers each, watching any mind-numbing action movies they find on the TV. They don’t talk about the game or anyone on their respective team. In fact, much of the day is silent between them, but Jared appreciates just being there. He more than loves the fact that Jensen's joining him in this lazy day and not pushing him to deal with the loss. 

He gets texts from a few of the guys, and he returns them with simple answers. _I’m staying here for a while_ he tells Chad. _I’ll be okay_ he tells Jeff. And by the time they go to bed that night, he’s a bit better. It takes the next morning for him to feel semi-okay.

On Tuesday, Jared is at work and feeling relatively good. There’s nothing major going on, but they’ve had some solid sales throughout the day and he just has a very calm feeling inside. He’s been holding onto this calm since Sunday morning, when he woke up and the loss was no longer his issue. The fact that the season was over and he could just focus on work and Jensen was the only thing on his mind. And it felt good. 

Around seven, he’s checking stock by the basketballs and is shocked by Chad coming from behind and flapping a bunch of pamphlets at the back of his head. “Team meeting.”

“What?” Jared looks around and sees the guys standing near the weight benches. “What’re you talking about?”

“It’s Tuesday, dude.”

“It’s September, dumbass.”

Chad’s already walking away, so Jared gives in and follows. He stops behind Jeff and listens to Chad as he shuffles through the papers in his hands.

“So, there’s Thursdays in Lincoln Park. Saturday mornings in Wicker Park.” A few people groan and he adds in, “Yeah, I know, I know.”

Jared nudges his brother. “What’s he talking about?”

Jeff smiles when he looks over his shoulder. “New leagues.”

Chad continues talking over Jared and Jeff’s quiet conversation. “Fridays in Bucktown? That might be our best bet to keep things close, yeah?”

“Why?” Jared asks.

Jeff smirks. “You wanna keep losing the Championship?”

“Not really, no."

"You wanna keep playing against Tom?"

Jared is fully capable of saying no, but he doesn't want to acknowledge that they're changing leagues for him. "But you guys really wanna leave? We’ve been there for years.”

Chad is still going. “We had a few weeks where you dicks couldn’t show up and we were scrambling to fill the roster. So I'm bringing in a couple extras just so you fuckers don’t screw us. Okay?”

Jeff throws an arm around Jared’s shoulders and brings him forward. “Sometimes it’s good to change, yeah?”

Jared’s shrugging, but he’s not looking at his brother anymore because he sees Jensen standing a few people away with his arms crossed like he’s here for serious business. Jared leans forward to see him better. Jensen’s smile is small and he nods just enough for Jared to see it. 

“Jay? You mind waiting ‘til I’m done?” Chad asks, annoyed.

He points a finger in Jensen’s direction “I just …”

Chad rolls his eyes. “Think you can play with your boyfriend without having to suck him off every ten minutes?”

Jared looks between Chad and Jensen and eventually they’re both smiling at him and Jeff’s patting him on the back. So he’s smiling, too. “Yeah, I think I can manage.”

\-----

Done


	5. Timestamp 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Game of the New Season

Jared watches Jensen take the plate from his spot as first base coach. He can appreciate Jensen's batting routine and the smooth way he leans into his approach, front knee bending as he rocks back and forth. Jensen is one hell of an athlete.

Better yet is when Jensen quickly swings and knocks a line drive right in the gap between the short stop and third baseman. Jensen runs down the first base line and rounds first for a few steps, smiling when he sees that Gabe easily makes it home on a quick sprint. 

Jensen moves back to first and slaps Jared's hand, still smiling, nodding, and then taking a few steps and leaning forward with his hands on his knees. He's ready to wheel to second if Jeff can smack the ball in a good place, and possibly unknowingly giving Jared a nice view of his ass. 

Jeff creams the ball down the third base line, but it errs foul just before it hits the ground and Jensen jogs back to first after taking off for second.

When Jensen gets back to first, he stands straight with one foot on the bag and slants a look at Jared.

"You checking out my ass?"

"Should I?" Jared asks with a wink.

Jensen chuckles and shuffles a few feet towards second, only to return when Jeff pops up to shallow left field. 

"He's rusty," Jared mumbles, kicking some dirt around.

"It's just the first game. It's early."

"Never too early to get old. You're gettin' up there."

"Watch it," Jensen warns. 

"Hey, when we're in the over 40 league, I'll still check out your ass." He then goes on to smack Jensen's ass and wink. "Now get that pretty little ass a little lead off. I've got a good feeling about Aldis."

And Jared's right, because Aldis crushes the ball to deep right-center, and Jensen's wheeling it to get around the diamond and into home. Before he turns to the dugout, he spins to wink at Jared, and Jared knows it's gonna be a good night.


	6. Timestamp 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their First Weekend Living Together

“You having a hangover isn’t fun anymore.”

Jared groans into the pillow and pulls his legs up higher on the mattress, doing his best to ignore Jensen or his words or his _voice_ because Jared could really go with having the room absolutely silent again. 

“At the risk of sounding like a pussy-”

“Too late,” Jared mumbles, mouth still full of pillowcase.

“I didn’t really think our first weekend here would go like this. There’re still a few dozen boxes to unpack.” 

Jared grumbles unintelligibly but refuses to move, still taking up the whole middle portion of the bed.

Jensen sighs, long and drawn out before he knees the side of the bed to disrupt Jared. “You gonna do this all the time? Get wasted, pass out, then refuse to get up?”

“Before ten on a Saturday?” Jared asks, voice gravelly and low. “Absolutely. Every time.”

The bed dips when Jensen squeezes into the foot or so of space at the edge of the bed that Jared isn’t monopolizing. He stretches out on his back with his hands behind his head. “You used to be kind of endearing. Charming even.”

Jared’s lips curl up into a smile even as he shoves his face further into the pillows to hide it. “Just be glad I came home at all.”

Jensen slips a hand over Jared’s head, sweeping hair away and behind his ear. “You hungry?”

“Breakfast in bed?”

There’s a short laugh as Jensen tugs at the ends of Jared’s hair. “If I’m cooking, you can manage to get up and out of bed, alright?”

“I’ll consider it.”

Jensen snorts. “Kinda like you considered hitting that high pitch?”

Right then, Jared flips to his back, voice rising in volume but still scratchy as hell. “I could’ve taken that thing outta the yard. Don’t know why you’re all raggin’ on me for it.”

“Except for the part where you actually missed and whiffed at it.”

Jared shoots Jensen an ugly look, made nastier with the bags under his eyes, tragic bedhead, and the crusted drool down his chin. 

Jensen laughs, licks his thumb, and wipes at Jared’s mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”

Instead of complaining further, Jared reaches out and tugs Jensen closer, wrapping a leg over Jensen’s thigh to keep him close. After a few moments of just breathing in Jensen’s clean, showered hair, Jared kisses the side of his neck and settles in. “Think we should still do breakfast in bed.”

Shifting into Jared’s hold, Jensen chuckles but opens his arms and legs to twine with Jared’s. “In a bit, yeah?”

Jared kisses below Jensen’s jaw then shuts his eyes.


	7. Timestamp 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Championship with Jensen

The Gamecocks fly through the new summer league, obliterating the competition at a ridiculous rate. Every single game – _every single one_ – is over by the end of the fifth inning in a disgusting show of slaughter rule after slaughter rule after slaughter rule. When they so easily crush Miller Tap, a team whose only loss came in the second week to the Gamecocks, they’re all smiles and handing out easy high fives. 

But Jensen can tell it isn’t the same. 

As the crew rounds up their things, changing cleats for shoes and flip flops, gathering bats and softballs, he asks Jared, “You okay?” with a nudge to his side.

Jared glances at him then goes back to the task of getting his equipment back into his bat bag. “Yeah, why?”

“Kinda quiet.”

He shrugs and makes a face, looking at his teammates who are equally settled. “I'm fine,” he says with another shrug. “You ready for the bar?”

In the car, Jared is still calm, betraying the way he’d chattered on and on when they were headed to the game. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jensen shakes his head and continues driving. It’s when he parks in the lot of the bar that he finally turns to Jared and gives a long look. “We just won.”

Jared shrugs. “Yeah?”

“And no one’s going crazy.”

He shrugs again. “Easy game.”

“We won the championship,” Jensen clarifies slowly. “We swept the league. No one’s celebrating.”

“We’re at the bar. This is celebrating.”

Jensen clears his throat and shifts to face Jared, motioning a hand between them. “I watched you for an entire season throwing hissy fits when you lost. And then going crazy like you won the lottery with every good play. What’s this?”

Jared takes a moment and gives a thoughtful look out the front window. “I dunno.” Another shrug and he looks at Jensen. “Just feels different, I guess.”

“Why? Why’s it different?”

“Just … different league. Different team. You know?”

Jensen gives a long look and shakes his head. “Different team? It’s everyone from last year.”

“You’re here.”

The way that Jared says it so simply strikes Jensen oddly. He keeps staring and suddenly thinks of how over the summer, Jared had been more calm and relaxed about the team than Jensen had ever imagined. Jared hardly complained or even talked about his own play, or anyone else on the field. 

The corner of Jared’s mouth twitches like he’s hiding a smile. “Just different this year.”

Chad pounds a quick beat on the hood of the car and smirks. “You gaybags comin’ or what?” 

Now that … that’s normal.


End file.
